Divergence
by Roseblade22
Summary: Divergence: (noun) deviation from something such as a typical pattern or expressed wish. The sporadic reemergence of Goku's Saiyan tendencies on Planet Namek leaves his life in sudden disarray, and triggers an irreversible chain of events that no one— even those from the future—can foresee. Vegeta, Bulma, Trunks, and Gohan are also main characters.
1. Fight Inside

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

**DIVERGENCE**

**CHAPTER ONE: FIGHT INSIDE**

* * *

**GOKU**

It had only lasted mere moments, but Goku felt it. Something inside him had broken, and he'd felt a torrent of fiery rage begin pouring into him. Was it his spirit? His sanity?

The warrior from Earth stood still, frozen in place with shock, as Piccolo's body dropped with a sickening thud to the dirt at his feet. The murderous tyrant who had punched a clean hole through the Namekian's chest stood laughing above them all, relishing in the others' pain. Gohan knelt by Piccolo's side, hot tears streaking his face. He screamed his mentor's name over and over again, willing him to stay alive. Seeing his son in anguish only intensified the heat Goku suddenly felt blooming in his heart.

"Frieza…" Goku whispered through clenched teeth.

The Arcosian tyrant wasn't satisfied; he intended on finishing all of the other warriors from Earth before disposing of the outcast Saiyan.

"If you think that your little friends can escape me, you're sadly mistaken," Frieza sneered, each word as toxic as poison. He extended a hand towards them—this time his gaze secured on the undersized, bald warrior by Gohan's side.

"Krillin, look out!" Gohan cried.

"This time you won't come back!" snarled the demonic voice.

Seconds later, Goku watched helplessly as his childhood friend was sent flailing into the air, his screams for help suddenly silenced by a terrible explosion. The fire ravaging inside of the Saiyan exploded too, consuming his soul, and he gave in to it. He'd never felt this way before. It tore through him, unlocking wave after wave of energy within his body. It gave him power.

It was more potent, more terrifying than mere anger. It was _hatred_.

Feeling this way sent new shockwaves of fear through the Saiyan's heart. Goku sensed the tremendous energy the hatred gave him rush through his veins, more powerful than the mightiest jolt of adrenaline. He felt his muscles bulge and grow to accommodate this new, forbidden strength. The aura surrounding him whipped violently and shimmered with golden light. His vision blurred red, and a terrible scream tore from his throat.

"What?!" Frieza marveled as Goku's transformation took place before his eyes. "Saiyan's transform into apes; what is this?!"

Finally, the lone Saiyan's figure stood tall, still, and silent. His new blue eyes locked on the Acrosian, his golden hair and aura in stark contrast to Planet Namek's cerulean landscape. The power had overtaken him, and he had transformed into a different kind of warrior: It was something only Saiyan legends spoke of, and Goku realized this as Frieza's face contorted in fear.

"How? How did you get this incredible power? Don't tell me," the alien cried out, his voice trembling. "It's true, isn't it?!"

Goku didn't answer, he only responded with a silent stare that promised redemption for his fallen comrades and all others Frieza had mercilessly killed. However, despite his stoic expression, the Saiyan struggled with his own fears. There was more than just rage and hatred bubbling inside of him: A sudden feral bloodlust burst forth from the depths of his consciousness, and Goku nearly lost control of himself right then and there. He quickly commanded his son to retrieve the nearly-dead Piccolo, find Bulma, and leave the planet. Whatever was about to happen to him, he knew it would be destructive, and he didn't want to risk hurting anyone he cared about. Then he turned his attention back to the Arcosian tyrant.

"No more," Goku demanded, as he saw his son and the injured Namekian safely fly out of sight. "Now you will know the horror, Frieza!"

A mighty roar gathered in the back of his throat, and when it forced its way from his lips, Goku barely recognized his own voice. The sound was primal, full of loathing—it was the tattered remnants of what it had been before, and his soul was the same. Goku thought one more time of the expression on Krillin's face when he'd been ripped from the ground into the air, and relived in his mind his best friend's scream as his body exploded. Then he rocketed towards the Arcosian at mind-blowing speed, fully intent on seeking revenge.

* * *

**MASTER ROSHI**

The ancient martial arts master sat, frozen in place as he sat outside of Capsule Corporation's headquarters. A massive, spherical spacecraft was toppled over onto its side in front of him, and from inside Roshi heard the echoes of Dr. Brief's argument with a hysterical Chi-chi. The space suit the old man still wore was cumbersome and uncomfortable in the heat of midday; sweat poured from his forehead into his eyes, down his back, and even soaked the palms of his hands. However, it wasn't the heat or the argument from within the spaceship that troubled Master Roshi. It was incredibly faint, but he could feel the battle between his former student and another terribly strong, but much darker power on Planet Namek. Goku's spirit energy had taken an inconceivably massive surge upward, and it was still growing exponentially stronger. And although the signature was clearly recognizable as Goku's spiritual power, Roshi could feel a frightening shift occurring in the nature of his former pupil's energy.

"Hey, what's up?"

The martial arts master glanced up at the round figure—also clad in a space suit—approaching him. Yajirobe plopped down next to him, a soda clenched in his fat fist, his eyes squinting in suspicion.

"You look worried," the fat warrior observed. "What's the deal?"

"Strange, this life—it's always full of unexpected twists and turns," Roshi replied cryptically.

"So, what's up?"

Roshi sighed, glancing upward at the sky with a grimace. "It's Goku," he confessed. "Something's happened to Goku—I can feel it. I've had a sixth sense about him since he was a boy."

Yajirobe's face creased into a frown. "Is he dead?"

"Oh no—that's not it. He kept digging, and he finally hit the mother lode: A power so great that normal men can't even fathom it."

"So what? Isn't that good?"

"Not necessarily," Roshi replied, his worry compounding. "Having the kind of power that I'm talking about is uncharted territory for Goku. He's never experienced anything like it—that much I can guarantee—yes, sir. A power of this magnitude could overwhelm a man and change him forever."

"Say what?" Yajirobe cried, disbelieving. The pudgy swordsman gawked at the martial arts master, urging him with his eyes to continue, but Roshi's words had run dry.

The old man gritted his teeth as he felt still another rise in Goku's faint, faraway energy signature. He didn't know if it would ever end, and it was turning out as the old master had always feared. Ever since he'd first met Goku—a pint-sized, cheerful child with a strange tail, an enormous gift for mastering martial arts, and an even greater knack for harnessing the power of spirit energy—Roshi had felt a dark premonition surrounding the boy. He'd ignored it when Goku proved to be pure of heart by being able to ride on the Nimbus cloud the old man had offered him, but he had never forgotten about it completely. Someone with as much skill as Goku had the capabilities to do the world a massive amount of good, but also had the lingering potential to cause just as much harm. Roshi had trained the child in an attempt to steer Goku's life in the direction of the latter, and it had seemed his intervention had worked when the young warrior repeatedly defended Earth against King Piccolo and the evil trio of Saiyans. Now that he knew that Goku's seemingly unnatural powers came from his Saiyan heritage, Roshi worried about his former student's ability to maintain his pure-hearted ways and resist the temptation to give in to his race's darker impulses. Even now, the old master felt Goku's internal struggle as the nature of his power shifted from light to dark, dark to light, and then back again.

Something terrible had happened on Namek, and Goku's pure spirit had broken.

"Right now Goku's struggling to hold on to who he is," Roshi sighed when he found the power to speak again. "God bless him. Now all we can do is pray."

* * *

**GOKU**

The Saiyan no longer was aware of the passage of time; he was only aware of the enormous power that had taken hold of his body. Something had certainly happened to change him physically, but there was an equally terrible transformation threatening to take over his consciousness: The screams of the beast inside of him ripped out of his throat, filled him with insatiable brutality, and commanded his fists and feet to lash out at unimaginable speeds and seek the most vulnerable targets on his opponent's body. It cried for freedom—for complete control over him. So far, Goku had somehow managed to remain himself against this new, bloodthirsty fragment of his personality, just as he managed to gain the upper hand in the battle against Freiza. However, the flashes of bestial rage were growing stronger by the minute; they betrayed his intentions and slowly dominated over his restraint. To his horror he found himself enjoying every crunch of the Arcosian's bones against his fist and relishing every cry of pain he could cause to a frightening degree. Every time he landed a punch or a kick, he felt giddy with anticipation of the next. It was intoxicating.

The two superpowers clashed again and again, their energy crackling in the air, exploding in fantastic spectacles of light and destruction. Goku solidly landed a mighty punch to Frieza's face, and sent the Arcosian spiraling downward into the Namekian soil. He formed a crater the side of a building when he landed, but it didn't take more than a few milliseconds for the alien to recover and shoot back upward to face the Saiyan. For a few moments, they traded words instead of blows.

"Why do you loathe what I've done so much?" Frieza inquired with a sick smirk crossing his battered face. "Saiyans are just as ruthless as I am. They were killers—all of them! And you have the gall to condemn what I've done? You and your bloodthirsty race!"

Goku met the Arcosian tyrant's smirk with a detached scowl. "They paid for their mistakes!"

"Is that why they died?" Frieza's eyes—and his crazed smirk—widened. "I thought it was because I killed them."

Goku struggled to maintain expressionless on the surface, when inside Frieza's words were making his Saiyan heart swell in rage. He was winning the battle with Frieza, but he was slowly losing the one he was fighting inside his mind. The monster inside of him was slowly gaining ground, and he was being forced to relinquish hold of his body and mind to it.

"You're just a beast with no conscience," Goku said, speaking more to himself than to the alien floating in front of him.

"So I'm a beast, eh?" Frieza heard his words and laughed knowingly. "And what about you, Super Saiyan? Aren't you just like me?"

_No, no I'm not! _A desperate voice cried from within Goku, even as the bloodlust gained yet another hold on his conscious. _I'm good! I'm not going to become like him. I can't…_

Frieza watched intently as the Saiyan stared back at him, his silence speaking volumes.

"Guess the jury's still out on that one," the Arcosian sneered. "Let's just give it a little more time."

_How does he know?_ Goku thought. _Can he see the struggle I'm having inside? Has he seen it before?_

The Arcosian's stinging words bit deeply into the Saiyan, and he realized that he had to end this quickly, or he would certainly lose control. If that happened, he didn't know if he would ever regain it again. With a desperate shout, he threw himself back into the fight with everything he had. Frieza welcomed his assault, throwing an endless torrent of destructive energy waves in Goku's direction, but the Saiyan simply passed through them as fluidly as he would a pool of water. Goku landed another impressive series of blows, before he began to see red leak into his vision and realized another horrifying detail of his transformation: The fighting was helping the feral presence that had awoken inside him gain more control. The more he fought, the more it fueled the bloodlust inside him. He had to stop, or he'd risk giving into the fearful manifestation. Goku's aura flared as he propelled himself away from the battered alien tyrant. The two warriors sunk down from the clouds, perched on some jagged pillars of rock, and studied one another.

The Saiyan didn't understand what was happening to him, and he was made even more uneasy by Frieza's undying smirk. The Arcosian must have realized by now that Goku had far surpassed him in power, but for some untold reason, that sadistic grin never left his face.

"You may be a filthy monkey," Frieza began, wiping a thin rivulet of blood from his chin. "But you and I have much more in common than you realize, Saiyan."

"Your evil deeds have become the noose around your neck, Frieza," Goku replied, his every syllable dripping with disgust. "I'll _never _become like you."

"Oh, really? Don't tell me you don't feel it." Frieza chuckled darkly, seemingly amused. "That deep-seeded rage—that bloodlust—inside of you? That's a Saiyan trait."

Goku's eyes widened slightly. Frieza _did_ sense that something was happening to him.

"I've spent a lot of time around Saiyans, you know," the Arcosian continued. "So I know their nature. They're animals with a predatory instinct for preying on the weak. That's why they made such exceptional soldiers in my army."

"You enslaved them," replied the Saiyan through clenched teeth. "And then you exterminated them without a thought, just like you did the people of this planet!"

"Of course I did. It's in my nature to prey on the weak as well. The Saiyans served their purpose, but they were evolving, and I couldn't allow them to gain any more strength. Every rogue animal has to be put down eventually," Frieza snickered, his words tainted once again with poison. The alien drew back a pointed finger, the energy he was summoning already gathering at its tip. It glowed with an angry red aura, and the air around the glowing orb crackled and popped with heat. "Even you, Saiyan!"

Screaming, Frieza whipped his finger towards the waiting Saiyan, sending the blast of light and energy rocketing towards him. Goku watched as it traveled through the air at astonishing speed, aimed directly at his chest—but it was as if everything since he'd transformed was happening in slow motion. The words from their previous exchange were still churning in Goku's head. So this sudden surge of bloodlust and the terrible force he felt swelling within him, attempting to overtake his mind and body, was a Saiyan quality? But he'd been a Saiyan his entire life, and he'd never struggled with this feeling. Why after over a quarter century of living with a good-natured, content conscious, was this conflict erupting inside of him now? Again, panic gripped him as he felt the monster inside gain more traction in its slow but steady takeover of his mind.

Just as Frieza's death beam was about to make contact, Goku easily sidestepped, avoiding the destructive force and the dozen like it that quickly followed. Finally, Frieza's smirk was wiped clean and replaced with a crazed, furious grimace.

"Why can't I hit you!?" the Arcosian cried. "Nobody should be able to dodge my blasts!"

Goku said nothing in response, but continued to glare at the frustrated alien. It wasn't long until Frieza once again adopted his sly grin, and he clasped his palms together, as if preparing to pray.

"I'll destroy us both before I let you live," sneered the tyrant, and a blast of blood-red energy exploded off the surface of his skin. "Either way, you'll never make it out of here alive!"

"We'll see about that," Goku replied, his eyes narrowed.

Frieza's lips curled up further, revealing white teeth and blood leaking out from between them. With a grunt, he concentrated his energy and parted his palms. Goku watched in awe as the crimson aura flaring around the Arcosian suddenly swirled and condensed between his hands. The result was a colossally powerful, shimmering orb of dark energy. As Frieza held it aloft with both hands, he gathered still more energy, feeding his creation. Crackling bundles of lightning began to flash around him, and the air around the two warriors resonated with the immeasurable power of the glowing orb.

"I've figured out how to beat you," Frieza whispered, every word as cruel and cold as the stab of a knife. "You may be a Super Saiyan, and you're power is amazing, but there's more to winning than that! Sometimes it's the smartest one who wins, not the strongest!"

The Arcosian's red eyes lit up with a crazed vengeance, and he heaved the ball downward, the energy in his hands erupting with sheer power. The blast rocketed towards the planet's surface at a speed not even Goku could surpass.

"Now say goodbye to Namek!" Frieza screamed. "Die, planet, die!"

As he watched Frieza laugh at the sight of his creation ripping towards the planet core, Goku remained struggled to contain his shock—and a new, even more powerful wave of rage. So, Frieza had finally realized that he'd been outclassed, and his response was to destroy the both of them? There was huge shudder and a mighty groan from below as Frieza's attack made contact with its target, boring deeply into the planet crust and throwing Namek's core into a downward spiral of destabilization. Columns of rock burst from the ground, spewing the molten core of the planet into the air and transforming its oceans into churning, boiling cauldrons of liquid. The alien world would die in a matter of minutes, and so would everyone who remained on its surface.

"You fool!" Goku shouted, his resolve to remain in control of his anger beginning to wane. "You would destroy an entire world just to make sure I don't win!?"

"You still don't get it do you?" Frieza replied, his grin widening maniacally. "I didn't plan on destroying myself—just you and the planet. I can breathe in space and you can't. That means if the planet goes, then you won't have any more air to live on. And I shall be victorious!"

The Saiyan glared back at the laughing alien. "You may destroy the planet, but you can never destroy what I am, Frieza."

"Oh, really?" the Arcosian said with mock interest. "And what is that?"

Goku swallowed, as if the action would somehow suppress the monster inside him for a few more minutes. The ferocity had bubbled at the surface of his consciousness for so long, and he'd been barely able to keep it from emerging. But he was beginning to see that his fight against this hidden part of himself was futile. Again, Goku hid his fears behind an expressionlessness mask and powerful words. Every sentence he spoke took on a new meaning, as he tried to remember who he really was, as he struggled to reign in the burning hate that still scorched his soul, and as he gradually felt himself relinquish his control to the beast raging within him:

"I am the hope of the universe."

_I am the scourge of the universe._

"I am the answer to all living things that cry out for peace."

_I am the bringer of death, terror, and pain. _

"I am protector of the innocent."

_I am eradicator, slayer, killer, executioner._

"I am the light in the darkness."

_I am what lurks in the darkness._

"I am truth."

_I am destruction._

Goku paused, and let out a hot breath as he heard the echoes of his voice hang in the air, marveling how much they differed from the whispers that were invading his mind. The hatred that had been fueling his increase in power, energy, and stamina throughout his entire battle continued to course through him, increasing with every pump of his heart. With it, a hidden personality bubbled up as if from the bottom of a darkened lake. It had been a part of him all along, Goku realized, ever since he'd been born.

_I am Saiyan._

His entire life, he'd only caught brief glimpses of his Saiyan tendencies through the murky water of his consciousness. It was this part of him that had emerged whenever he'd transformed into a giant ape in his youth. It understood only rage and it sought only to destroy; although he remembered little about his own transformations, he had witnessed firsthand what happened to his son when he was transformed. Now this same monster was trying to overcome him as he underwent a new Saiyan transformation, and despite his most valiant mental efforts, it was succeeding. The massive savage presence, with its equally terrible degree of power, was simmering just underneath the surface of his control.

"I am Saiyan," he whispered, feeling the darkness creep further still into his head.

Frieza's eyes grew wide as he felt the power of the warrior floating before him increase to astronomical heights. "What is this!?" he cried, unbelieving of the spectacle.

Goku screamed, his throat feeling as if it were about to tear apart from the strain. He was giving in, he realized. The ugly head of the beast within was cracking through his resolve, and he was helpless to stop it. But he had resisted his true nature much too long, and it had come back with a powerful vengeance and an equal penchant for blood. He was out of options, and he was tired of fighting a battle that it was clear he was about to lose. The warrior felt one more scream rip through him, before finally he surrendered. The beast and the power that it commanded surged forward, merging with his consciousness, turning the hero an entirely different kind of monster.

"I am _Saiyan_!" Goku suddenly screamed, his voice ripping out of his throat with the power of a god. "And I am your worst nightmare, Frieza!"

* * *

**PICCOLO**

"Don't worry Mr. Piccolo, we'll have you home in no time!"

He was barely aware of what was happening, but he felt the child's shoulder wedged underneath his gut as the rest of him hung limply towards the ground. They were flying, he realized. Gohan was taking him somewhere. As the Namekian lingered on the edge of unconsciousness, he was granted a tiny window into the colossal battle that was taking place through the energy signatures spiking and surging across the planet's surface. Goku was taking on Frieza, and he'd tapped into a terrifically powerful new energy. It was unlike anything Piccolo had ever felt before. If it hadn't been for the pain, he would have sworn he was dead or dreaming.

That wasn't the only thing he was feeling that left Piccolo in disbelief. All across the planet, individual energy signatures were popping up everywhere. Everyone who had been slaughtered by Frieza or his men was miraculously returning to life. The Namekian warrior realized that Kami, his elderly counterpart on Earth, must have concocted some kind of plan—now that they were both alive again, the Earth's dragon balls must have been used for this purpose. The Namekian people were reviving, and that would mean that the Namekian dragon would live again as well. There was hope for them after all.

"There it is! Dad's spaceship!" Gohan excitedly announced. "Hang on, Piccolo. We're going home!"

The injured Namekian struggled to hold on to what little life still fluttered within him, the hopefulness in his pupil's words giving him strength. He continued to focus on the monumental fight taking place miles away. Yes, it was true—Goku's power was no match for Frieza, but something was transforming his energy. It was becoming dark and distorted. Something was wrong.

Piccolo groaned as he felt Gohan enter the door of the ship and lay him flatly out on the cold floor.

"Gosh, it's bad," the child apologized, placing a small hand on the Namekian's injured chest. "Stay here, Mr. Piccolo. I've got to focus; there's no time to waste."

The boy began to pull away, but Piccolo used the last of his strength to reach up and clasp Gohan's tiny hand in his. The child gasped in surprise, and then turned back to the dying Namekian, leaning over him with questions in his eyes.

"Gohan…" Piccolo rasped with difficulty. "You….have to…stay here."

The half-Saiyan's brow furrowed in confusion. "Mr. Piccolo, I have to find Bulma—and I can't leave my dad here! I've got to help him!"

"Goku's…power….has changed…." The Namekian continued, his every breath a struggle. "He's no longer…himself."

Gohan blinked, and then leaned back, casting a glance at the still-open doorway of the spaceship. Piccolo knew the boy could feel his father's energy signal as well, but he might not have been aware of the savage new nature it had suddenly taken on. When the boy looked back down at him a few moments later, he had tears in his eyes.

"I don't understand," Gohan cried. "Why can't I help my daddy?

"Don't…worry…Kami has…a plan…"

"But—but Piccolo! Bulma's out there! And my dad!"

"You can't….help him…Gohan…" Piccolo gasped. "He has to…find it…within himself…to…"

The Namekian warrior's eyes fluttered closed, his voice drifted off, and Gohan's watery eyes became a waterfall. He leaned further in towards the green face of his mentor, his tears washing away the bloody mess that had crusted around his eyes and lips. But Piccolo was floating into unconsciousness, and he didn't know if he'd ever return. As he drifted off into oblivion, he grasped the young boy's hand tighter against his chest. Then the darkness took him.

* * *

**VEGETA**

It was like awakening from a deep sleep. The first thing he was aware of was a metallic taste invading in his mouth: Blood. He sucked in a breath, and something gritty and dry clogged his nose. He tried to open his eyes, but he saw nothing but blackness, before the same filth fell into them too. Vegeta realized—terrifyingly—that he was underground.

The Saiyan prince tried to shout, and attempted to move his limbs. The soil found its way into his open mouth instantly, and it weighed down on his chest, preventing him from inhaling in more ways than one. He choked and sputtered on the Namekian dirt, and began to claw his way upward. There were several horrifying moments of uncertainty before he felt his fist burst through to the surface, and he was able to finally heave his head above ground. Vegeta spent the next few moments of his newly restored life alternating between gasping in mouthfuls of precious air and spitting out clods of grime.

_What the hell happened? _He thought, his memory of dying returning to him._ Who buried me? How am I alive?_

When he'd finally composed himself, the Saiyan glanced about his surroundings with disbelief. The world around him had been consumed by fire. Pillars of rock collapsed around him, the oceans raged at the shores, and huge tornadoes of flame spat fire into the atmosphere. He briefly wondered if perhaps he'd not been revived, but had simply woken up in Hell. As he stood up and brushed the remaining dirt from his uniform, Vegeta gave himself a small pinch on the exposed flesh of his arm. He felt a small sting of pain, and blood rushed towards the affected area, making it turn a rosy pink.

_I must be alive, _he concluded. _But what happened here? _

Glancing skyward, he became aware of two enormous power levels clashing—again and again—no far away from where he was standing. One he recognized as Frieza—he'd ascended to his maximum level of power. It was incredible and fearful to realize how massively strong the tyrant had become. However, Vegeta was even more astonished to register the energy signature of his opponent. Kakarot's power had grown so large that it made Frieza's seem like that of a child.

_Can it be true?_ Vegeta wondered. _Is this what a Super Saiyan's full power feels like?_

The prince felt a surge of jealousy grip him, as he analyzed the staggering power of the other Saiyan. He'd never felt such raw, unbridled intensity in his life. Additionally, something was had changed in the nature of the energy that Kakarot emitted, and that could only mean that his suspicions were true. The legend had come to fruition. But it hadn't been him. Prince Vegeta—the prince of all Saiyans—had been trumped by a low-class warrior who denounced his Saiyan heritage.

There was no greater shame for the prince. Vegeta stood despondently, wondering what to do next. The planet was certainly dying; he could feel the ground shift under his feet as the core destabilized. If he wanted to live, he had to escape somehow. The Saiyan prince flew up, glancing frantically around him for a ship that had not been damaged.

There were none.

Vegeta released a scream of rage, but then composed himself once more. He needed to get off this rock, and soon. He glanced again in Frieza and Kakarot's direction, marveling once more at the tremendous energies that clashed between the two warriors. And then he saw it: A spiraling, glowing green form flickering into existence against the black sky.

The Namekian dragon had been revived as well, Vegeta realized, and a sudden relief filled him. He didn't need a ship—he'd just wish for immortality and a planet blowing up would no longer be a problem for him. His aura flashed around him, and he rocketed towards the mythical beast faster than he'd ever thought he could fly. As he grew closer to the fight, he saw the blazes and heard the sonic booms that were produced by the two combatants. Envy gripped him again, but he certainly hoped that Kakarot was giving Frieza the thrashing the tyrant deserved.

The Saiyan prince was in luck: The terrible battle was taking place right next to the Namekian dragon's gigantic form. Frieza came into his view first, and Vegeta was more than pleased to see that the Arcosian was battered, bruised, and looking very much like he was losing. He was shouting something towards the dragon, but it was in the common language. Vegeta knew now that the dragon didn't respond to wishes made in any tongue besides Namekian, so he didn't concern himself with the angry alien's cries. Kakarot's form didn't come into focus for a moment, but when Vegeta looked upon him, any doubt that could have remained regarding the Saiyan legend was completely wiped away.

Kakarot looked like a god: His hair, which had previously been a jet-black, shaggy mess, had transformed to an upright, golden-yellow mane. The aura swirling violently around his body was golden too, and his eyes a cold blue-green. Vegeta was astonished, horrified, insanely jealous, and utterly blown away by the sheer magnitude of the power before him.

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the air around the three warriors.

"Your wishes have been granted," the dragon rumbled, and his form began fading away.

Vegeta glanced up, completely shocked. The dragon had granted a wish? How? His heart shuddered to think that Frieza had gotten what he had asked for. The prince's eyes followed the twisted, fading form of the dragon down to its source—the seven Namekian dragon balls. A small green figure swathed in white and brown robes stood smiling next to them.

_It's the damned Namekian child, _the Saiyan realized. _But what did he wish for? Certainly not for Frieza's immortali—_

The Saiyan prince didn't get the chance to finish his thought, because before he knew what was happening, a bright light surrounded him, and he felt a mystical energy take hold. There was a loud snap in his ears, and he disappeared into nothingness.

* * *

**GOKU**

The Saiyan had utterly triumphed over his enemy. Even when Frieza had admitted to holding back his ultimate power, and then exploded with torrents of new energy, there was no contest. He had supremacy, and he held Frieza's very life in his hands.

It had been fun to toy with the Arcosian, while he reacted again and again with surprise as the Saiyan continuously reached into the immeasurable depths of power he possessed. He'd batted Frieza around like he was a doll, he'd mocked his so-called "ultimate power," and he'd done everything else he could think of to cause the alien tyrant physical and mental anguish.

But throughout it all, the Saiyan had been plagued by one thing: The remnants of his former self calling out to him from somewhere in his consciousness and begging that he show mercy towards his enemy. It had been easy to ignore—along with the other voices that sounded in his head. One belonged to King Kai, who had tried to contact the Saiyan about wishing him back to the safety of Earth. But safety wasn't something the Saiyan wanted—he wanted more time with his victim—so he'd refused outright to be wished anywhere. When the Kai's pleas had no effect on him, other voices had replaced it: Yamcha, Tien, and Chiaotzu all begged him to reconsider. He shut them all out.

Now Frieza was face down in the Namekian dirt, beaten nearly to death with his life bleeding out in pools around him. As he stared down at his enemy, the Saiyan again felt the familiar sentimental tugs on his conscious. The warrior he had been before his transformation had been merciful and foolish, and was trying to persuade him to be the same way. The Saiyan ignored the desperate pleas just as he had all the other voices. But unlike the other voices, this one would not relent. It fought its way further towards the surface of his mind, its cries growing louder and louder. They had to share their power, and this personality was trying to regain the control that had been stolen from him. Despite the power he had held over the other half for the last few minutes, the Saiyan felt his control slip, and his emotions began to affect him once again. For several minutes he struggled, unsure of what to do next. One part of him wanted to walk away—the work was done, and the planet's destruction would end Frieza's life for him. But another part of him screamed to kill the disgraced, broken alien at his feet—and not out of mercy. It wanted to kill for the sake of killing, without regard for compassion or any other irrational emotion. Still another part of him was horrified by the conflict that was emerging from inside him.

Finally, after he thought he'd be caught in a deadlock forever, the Saiyan resolved to turn and walk away.

That was, until the Arcosian began begging for his life.

"Please, help me…I beg of you…" pleaded Frieza, his voice a mangled whisper. "Don't…don't leave me to die like this! Have mercy on me. You can't do this!"

The Saiyan whirled around to face the creature on the ground, rage flashing in his newly-blue eyes.

"How many people asked you for mercy? Hundreds? Thousands?" he shouted, the power having shifted momentarily towards his more sentimental side.

Frieza gave no response. Instead he grew still and silent, but the Saiyan could still barely hear his weakened, wheezing breaths over the din of the planet disintegrating around them. Another flood of hateful darkness crept into the Saiyan's head and heart.

"What gives you the right to expect any mercy?" he asked, an air of cruelty punctuating each syllable. "Especially from a _Saiyan_?"

The warrior from Earth raised his arm towards Frieza and presented him with his glowing palm, a bright spot of fresh energy pulsing between his fingers. The Arcosian cracked opened his eyes, glancing up hopefully at the point of light. However, the former tyrant's pathetic expression was quickly extinguished when the glowing orb in his opponent's palm transformed into a torrential, angry ball of energy. Frieza's eyes grew wide and round as he looked upon the last image he would likely have in life; the Saiyan's stoic face betrayed no part of the inner conflict that continued erupting inside him.

He could help the pitiful alien, he knew. He could give him just enough energy to survive, and then leave. What happened afterward would not be his concern. He could show the slightest trace of mercy.

But that would be against his Saiyan nature.

The sizzling ball of energy grew exponentially brighter in his hand, flaring with more than enough power to wipe Frieza's existence from the universe. A smile crept up the Saiyan's face, no matter how hard he tried to repress it. He'd killed his enemies before, but only when his hand had been forced, and he'd never enjoyed it. But this…this he was neither forced to do, nor would he cease to revel in the moment.

He would enjoy killing Frieza.

The same sentimental, frantic part of the Saiyan's mind screamed at him to stop, that the way he was acting—the way he was feeling—was totally against everything he'd ever stood for. But it was merely a voice, and it was drowned out quickly by the Arcosian's last scream as the energy from his hand surged forward, vaporizing him where he lay.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _This story was born out of my desire to do three things: a) to give me a break from writing Vegeta's character in my other story "Imperfect Symmetry", b) to challenge me and help me improve my characterization skills, and c) to give some development to what I see as an unforgivably static character—Son Goku. I'm going to take some artistic liberties with his characterization in this story, as the main conflict arises when his Saiyan tendencies resurface for the first time since he was an infant, while he struggles to adapt. That being said, this will NOT be a happy-go-lucky Goku story. He's going to have a transformation of the mind as well as of the body, and he's going to feel some very real angst, and he's going to make some really, really horrible mistakes. Don't read if you don't like it._

_One thing I want to note for the hard-core fans out there…I use dialogue from both Dragon Ball Z __and__ Dragon Ball Z: Kai. It just turned out that I liked some of the lines from Kai much better than the ones that had been originally written. However, I didn't use all lines word for word, and I added portions of my own dialogue too. I'm not out to recreate the exact fight scene on Planet Namek, as awesome as it was. I'm creating something of my own. In addition, some minor events have been switched around, just for the sake of a smoother narrative. The most important major deviation from the canon occurs at the end of this chapter, and will be the catalyst for many other departures from the canon in the future—hence the title "Divergence."_

_Lastly, I have to give credit where it's due. This story would not have come to fruition had I not been motivated to a crazy degree by another creative writer. So if you get the chance, I urge you to check out the story that inspired mine: "The Catalyst" by Drakthul, which features the character of Raditz, has great balance of mystery, action, and angst, and provides enough plot twists to make M. Night Shyamalon dizzy. Drak, thanks much for inspiring me!_

_Hope you enjoyed! Please remember to leave a review—my muse is hungry! : D_

_~Rose_


	2. Never Be the Same

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's Note: **_This chapter is was a bit of an interesting one, because of its transitional nature. Once again, I borrowed a lot of dialogue from the show, adding my own details and bits, and changing some particulars. Again, I'm not aiming to make an exact copy of what happened in the anime—it's going to be my own version—that's why it's called "Divergence". Please review—my muse is hungry!_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: NEVER BE THE SAME**

* * *

**VEGETA**

To say that the Saiyan prince was frustrated was a colossal understatement. One moment, he'd been face to face with a broken and battered Frieza, the massive Namekian dragon, and—to his utter disbelief—Kakarot in Super Saiyan form. The next, he'd found himself transported to a lush green field on Planet Earth, along with dozens of Namekians, Kakarot's son, and the noisy, blue-haired Earth woman. It had been the wish the dragon had granted, Vegeta realized—the one made by the Namekian child seconds after he'd arrived at the scene of the final battle—that had brought them all here.

The Saiyan prince struggled to control his turbulent emotions. He was completely furious that he'd not been able to take part in Frieza's demise. He was equally angry that Kakarot—a low-class wretch—had somehow discovered the key to the Super Saiyan transformation before he had. On top of that, the human woman had just told everyone—to their enormous shock—that Planet Namek had exploded, and that Kakarot had been caught in the cataclysm. Vegeta heard the shouts and gasps of grief when she relayed one final fact: Even if they wished Kakarot back to life, he'd materialize in the place that he'd died, which now was a gigantic debris field in space. He was gone, and gone for good. Vegeta should have been glad to hear the news—after all, it meant that his two greatest enemies had been wiped from existence—but an intense disappointment had suddenly blindsided him.

He would never have his chance to challenge Kakarot to a rematch—and worse yet, he'd never discover how Kakarot had transformed into a Super Saiyan.

He managed to hide it incredibly well, instead taking out his frustrations on everyone around him, taunting them about their failure to save their hero and proclaiming himself the strongest in the universe. So far, he'd managed to knock Kakarot's brat around a bit, before the Namekian named Piccolo had intervened. Normally, Vegeta would have slaughtered the both of them, but for some strange reason, he had stepped aside, uncaring of their fates. Now he was sulking a few meters away from the despondent group, eavesdropping and attempting to sort out what to do with his life. It seemed that both his purposes for living—to destroy Frieza himself and to ascend to a legendary Super Saiyan—had been lost.

A few feet away, the blue-haired woman was busily attempting to comfort Kakarot's despairing son. Vegeta scowled, thinking that the child—even if he was only a half-breed—should have been able to handle the truth with a little more composure.

"We can't just give up," Gohan sniffed as the girl circled her arms around him. "There has to be another way to bring back my dad."

The Earth woman—Vegeta thought her name started with a "B", but he couldn't be sure—gave the boy a small squeeze. "I'm sorry Gohan. King Kai was pretty clear on the matter. It's not a problem to wish Chiaotzu back, because he died on Earth, but I'm afraid it's a completely different situation with your dad and Krillin."

Gohan glanced up at the woman, and then at Piccolo, his eyes watery.

"Bulma's right Gohan," Piccolo confirmed. "Wishing your dad back would only kill him again. That's not something we want to do to Goku."

"Listen to Piccolo," Bulma—that was her name—said with a sad, thoughtful smile. "There's no nest to lay the eggs in. Yeah, that's a good analogy: Your dad and Krillin are the eggs, and the dragon is the hen, but there's no nest for her to lay her eggs in. And since there's not a cozy space for the eggs they get cold and cracked and the little chicks end up dying."

"That's awful," Kakarot's brat whimpered.

Vegeta rolled his eyes, his annoyance with these Earthlings growing to a peak. Didn't they know anything? Finally, he couldn't contain himself any longer, and broke his silence.

"Would you just shut up already?!" he shouted, his frustration clearly present in his voice. "Enough of this ridiculous babble—if you want Kakarot back, then listen to me: Every planet has a check-in station to the Spirit Realm. Wish him back to the Earth's station first, and then wish him back to life!"

The Namekian warrior, the woman, and Kakarot's child all blinked at him for a moment, before Bulma's eyes widened and she jumped up in excitement.

"Hey, that might work!" she cried, turning towards the Saiyan prince. "But how did you know that?"

Vegeta scowled and crossed his arms. "Fool, I died and was revived on Namek. I experienced the entire process!"

Bulma's blue hair flipped around as she and Gohan looked in the opposite direction at Piccolo, who scrutinized Vegeta for a moment, but then spoke. "As much as it disgusts me to say this, Vegeta's right. When I died, I witnessed it all too. If we follow those instructions and use two wishes each, we'll be able to return both Krillin and Goku to Earth alive."

"That's _great!_" Bulma shrieked, a sound that made Vegeta cringe. "Guys, we'd better start collecting the dragon balls quick! Gosh, Vegeta, what a great idea. I'm impressed."

The Saiyan prince glanced up at the human girl's bright smile. He shot a potent scowl right back, and watched with mild pleasure as her happy expression melted away when she saw that he wasn't interested in returning her enthusiasm. Vegeta glanced back at the half-breed boy, who was timidly approaching him, a small smile on his tear-streaked face. The prince held his chin aloft as Kakarot's son bravely held out his hand in a gesture of goodwill.

"Um, thank you very much, Vegeta," Gohan murmured, glancing up at him hopefully.

Vegeta gritted his teeth. This sentimental display was disgusting him, and he swatted the boy's hand away, much to the child's dismay and disappointment.

"Don't get carried away," he growled menacingly. "I'm not doing this to ease your pain or because I want your father to come back—I'm doing it because I'm going to become a Super Saiyan too, and when that happens I'll kill Kakarot myself!"

Gohan stared at him in shock, and then turned and ran back into the protective circle of his friends. Vegeta crossed his arms again, his snarl reducing to a mere frown. Maybe now he'd get a moment's peace so he could think about what he could do until Kakarot was wished back. His hopes for quiet were dashed when the Earth woman's irksome voice once again filled his ears.

"Aw, I don't buy that whole tough guy routine, Vegeta," she teased, shaking a finger at him. "You and Goku are the only full-blooded Saiyans left in the universe after all, and I bet you don't want to be lonely. It's actually kind of cute!"

Vegeta's voice sunk to a low, malevolent hiss. "Woman, I swear I will rip out your pink and wriggling tongue if I hear you say another word!"

"Hey! Don't speak to me like that, you jerk! You're going to have to learn some manners if you're going to come live with me."

Vegeta's swelling rage vanished suddenly, replaced with an equal amount of bafflement. He blinked at the blue-haired girl, and then at her companions, and it became clear from their shocked expressions that he wasn't the only one confused. Bulma, however, seemed completely oblivious to the entire situation.

"Yeah! I mean, come on!" she turned to the stunned group of Namekians, flailing her arms in her excitement. "_All_ of you will need someplace to crash while we search for the dragon balls and make all of our wishes. Even if we use the Namekian dragon balls, it will take more than one cycle to ask for everything we want."

"We wouldn't want to impose," one of the elder Namekians muttered, "although your offer is extremely kind."

"Seriously, It's really no biggie," continued the woman. "My dad's compound is huge; there will be more than enough room for everybody. It's not like you guys have a lot of options. I mean, green men from outer space aren't exactly a common sight around here."

The elder Namekian glanced at his brothers, and then smiled. "I see your point. Yes, we accept. Thank you very much."

"No problem! It's the least I can do," she said, grinning and then whirling around to face Vegeta again. "What about you? Are you coming or not?"

Vegeta threw his most fierce grimace in her direction. "And listen to more of your incessant, meaningless prattle? I think not!"

"Alright, suit yourself," she replied, with a disgruntled crinkle of her nose. Then she turned to the others and whispered, "Are you sure he's a prince? I thought princes were supposed to be polite and gentlemanly and stuff."

A chorus of snickers and barely suppressed laughs rippled across the crowd of observers. Vegeta gritted his teeth at the human woman's words, and he wondered how Kakarot and his band of misfit warriors could put up with this constant torture. He flared his aura, and stepped out from under the tree towards the group, his fists clenched and his eyes gleaming. Piccolo, Gohan, and several of the warrior Namekians crouched down into fighting stances as he approached, but the Saiyan prince made no move to attack.

"Laugh while you can, weaklings! I hope you all enjoy your time together," he snarled confidently. "Because I'll find a way to become a Super Saiyan, and I'll be waiting when you wish Kakarot back. Then you'll all bear witness to what the Prince of Saiyans can really do!"

With a final blast of air, the Saiyan shot up into the atmosphere, a band of light trailing behind him. Vegeta rocketed across the landscape, determined to find a remote place free of intolerable humans, Namekian refugees, or half-Saiyan brats to train. He would not be made a mockery, he decided. He was the Prince of a warrior race, not a circus clown! His determination solidified inside his heart. He would ascend to the Super Saiyan form on his own, and then he—Prince Vegeta—would be the one to have the last laugh.

* * *

**GOKU**

When he awoke he was himself again, and the memories of what he had done on Namek plagued him like a festering sore that refused to heal. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw himself destroying Frieza with a mighty blast of energy—and enjoying it. The thought that he'd felt so much pleasure in taking a life was enough to make the warrior sick to his stomach, but he couldn't afford to make a mess in this small space.

Goku shivered, the cold from space leaking into the spherical pod that was carrying him to some unknown destination. He vaguely remembered rushing to find some way to escape from the planet after he had destroyed his enemy, and he recalled that this pod was one of the few things he'd found that was still operational. The Saiyan had barely managed to clear the massive explosion of the planet's core, but now he had no way to know where he was headed.

He secretly prayed that it would be a planet without any inhabitants, so he could stew in his thoughts for a while.

The transformation had done more than change him—it had shaken him to the core, demolished the pillars of morality on which he'd stood his entire life, and made his future a dark uncertainty. It had unlocked a hidden power, but along with it came a monster with such drive and destructive force that it frightened Goku more than he could have ever imagined. Even now, the Saiyan felt the darker presence within him, lying dormant until the next threat appeared. He'd already tried to deny that it was there, but he was simply fooling himself. The beast was crawling just underneath his skin, and it wasn't likely that it would go away soon.

Goku realized the danger he posed to his friends and family with this newfound, terrifying manifestation lurking in the depths of his consciousness. He couldn't put them in danger, and he could allow them to see the horrifying monster he'd become.

He couldn't go home.

The Saiyan glanced out the tiny window in front of him, and watched the stars streak by him. The blackened void beyond him was cold and lonely, and he wished he could shed his anguish like a skin and go back to the warmth and comfort of Earth. He wanted to hold Gohan in his arms, to tell him how proud he was of him, and to marvel at how strong he'd become. He wanted to taste Chi-chi's cooking, to hold her body close to his at night, and even to hear her rant and rave about Gohan's schoolwork. He wanted to be content. He wanted his life to be simple again.

But his Super Saiyan transformation had broken his spirit into a thousand jagged pieces, and he was left to struggle with trying to put them back together again. However he tried to repress the truth, Goku intuitively knew his life would never be the same.

_He_ would never be the same.

Perhaps it was better to never return to Earth, he decided. That way, his family and friends could live out the rest of their lives in peace, and they would remember him as a hero—instead of a distorted fragment of his former self.

That was his only comfort, and his only certainty, as he sailed among the cold, unfeeling stars.

* * *

**KING COLD**

King Cold was outrageously bored. He sat hunched in his throne, a giant compared to the many minions and servants that milled about around him. When he'd been younger, he'd never imagined that being the lord over an intergalactic planet trade empire would be so uneventful. There were still the usual happenings—his scouts would find a new, profitable planet, his soldiers would purge the planet, and he would sell the planet. But the massive Acrosian's own power—as well as the size and strength of his armies—had grown so much that there was no challenge any longer. He didn't even remember the last time that the inhabitants of a planet had given his forces a decent fight. Every day it was a fresh planet, new slaughter…same old boredom.

His sons were much more enthusiastic about their work than he was, of course. They were young—they hadn't had the time to grow tired of the everyday grind of tyrannical lordship. Cold had resorted to forcing the inferiors that displeased him to fight each other to the death to entertain him. While it was amusing for a short time, and certainly effective at keeping his armies in line, it never quite satisfied the tyrant's needs.

"My Lord Cold?"

The giant Acrosian's eyes flickered downward to the alien officer addressing him, and he urged him with a roll of his eyes to continue.

"Lord Cold, sir—we're receiving a transmission from Lord Frieza's territory."

"Frieza?" Cold instantly perked up. "Wonderful! Patch him through to me."

The tyrant's perky mood glazed over with ice when the screen in front of him flashed to life, and it was not his youngest son that he saw. It was one of Frieza's plebian officers. King Cold scowled, extremely displeased. Where was Dodoria? Where was Zarbon? He was a king, and now he was being reduced to speaking to low-levels like this one? Frieza really needed organize his forces better.

"My Lord Cold," began the officer on the screen. "I regret to inform you of tragic news: Lord Frieza has been…assassinated."

"What?" the Arcosian shouted. "My son is dead?"

"I'm afraid so, Lord Cold. It happened during Frieza's hunt for the dragon balls on Planet Namek. The planet exploded, and we were unable to find any remains in the debris field, despite an extensive search. My sincerest condolences."

Cold felt a shock like no other, and suddenly boredom was a welcome emotion again. His Frieza—dead? It was inconceivable. Hadn't his youngest son planned to find the mystical dragon balls of Namek and wish for immortality? It was clear now that scenario had never come to pass, and King Cold felt the icy sting of grief.

"Who's the bastard that killed my son?" he asked, his voice as sharp as the glinting edge of a knife.

"Our intelligence suggests a rogue Saiyan who acted alone."

King Cold couldn't believe his ears. "A Saiyan? Are you saying that Vegeta killed my Freiza? Impossible! That worm couldn't even come close to my son's power!"

"Actually, Lord Cold, Vegeta was also confirmed to be killed on Namek. The Saiyan that cut down Lord Frieza remains to be identified."

"This is outrageous!" boomed the Arcosian king. "Get me Zarbon! Get me Dodoria! I demand that they explain this to me!"

"I'm sorry, Lord Cold—they have also been confirmed dead."

"What?!"

The king glanced momentarily downward in his sorrow, and spotted the officer who had intercepted the transmission. The alien began to quake with fear the moment the Arcosian's eyes focused on him. Cold swiftly reached down, grasped the officer's body in both hands, and ripped his body in half in his frustration. A few heads turned in the room when the doomed alien shrieked in pain, but they quickly whipped back around when the tyrant looked back up at the screen. This time, when King Cold spoke his voice had a malevolent edge.

"What _do_ you know about the Saiyan who killed my son?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"We understand that he was accompanied by several other beings—called 'humans'—who originate from a planet called Earth, which is just beyond our territory. However, we haven't confirmed that the Saiyan has returned there."

Cold's eyes bulged with rage. "Destroy it immediately!"

"One last detail, my Lord," the officer added. "There's information about the Planet Earth that suggests dragon balls exist there as well."

King Cold froze in his seat, his mouth hanging open. There was more than one planet with dragon balls? But he was sure that Frieza had determined that only Namekians could create and maintain the mystical qualities of those objects. How was it that they also appeared on this Planet Earth? He let the information sink slowly in, and a few moments later a sick smile crawled up his face.

"My Lord?" the officer on screen asked.

"We will set a course for Earth, but we will _not_ destroy it."

A few more heads turned in King Cold's direction, questions in their eyes. The man on screen blinked rapidly.

"Sir?" he repeated.

"I will find this 'Planet Earth,'" Cold commanded, his evil smirk widening. "Those dragon balls shall be _mine_, and with them, I will resurrect my son!"

"Of course, my Lord. We will contact you should we find any new information regarding the Saiyan."

The transmission flickered out, and his minions turned back to their glowing computer screens, frantically pushing buttons and speaking into their communicators.

"Setting course for Planet Earth," announced a navigational officer. "Approximate time of arrival: Point eight-three Earth years."

King Cold glanced up and stared into the blackness of space, his red eyes glowing with rage. Point eight-three Earth years—that was about ten Earth months. It was a short time for someone like him, whose natural life would span hundreds of years, but it was an eternity to wait for vengeance. He drew in a hot breath, resolving that it was the best he could do in this case. He would find Earth, he would torture and enslave its people, and he would find the friends of the Saiyan that had murdered Frieza and make them pay the weight of his grief in their own flesh and blood. And finally, he decided, he would find these mysterious dragon balls and use them to wish his son back to life.

Frieza might be gone for now, but King Cold resolved to stop at nothing to bring him back, and once he did, father and son would find this rogue Saiyan and seek their revenge upon him—together.


	3. Wasting Time

_**Disclaimer: **__I own nothing. _

_**Author's Note: **__At this point, I begin to condense the original timeline of the series. Example: In the series, I believe it takes over about a year and a half for Goku to return to Earth after the events on Namek. In my version, that time period only spans ten months. Don't ask me why I did that…I honestly can't remember my reasoning. Anyway, in the future the details will probably be edited to be more consistent with the timeline of the series. But for now, pretend that everything happened as it was, but sooner. : ) Enjoy, and don't forget to feed my muse by leaving a review!_

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: WASTING TIME**

* * *

**GOHAN**

As he leaned his head against a soft bed of grass, Son Gohan gazed thoughtfully up at the night sky. The void above him was like a canvas covered with the blackest ink, and sprinkled with a scattering of twinkling diamonds. The boy sighed, absentmindedly counting each sparkling dot in his head, and wondering where his father was among the stars.

It had been nearly a year since he'd been sure he'd lose his young life on Planet Namek, when his father had miraculously appeared and somehow saved them all. His heroism was now the only salve Gohan could apply to the emotional pain he felt when he thought about his father. He didn't understand why Goku—the famed Super Saiyan of legend and his father—had refused to return home. It had been months and months ago that he and his friends had summoned Porunga, the Namekian eternal dragon, and attempted to wish him back to life. He still remembered the feeling of his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach, when the dragon had told them that their wish couldn't be granted. Thankfully, the mystical creature had more than just that to say: Goku had never died on Namek, and he was in space, and he had told the dragon that he didn't wish to return.

Gohan felt the corners of his mouth curve into an unpleasant frown at the thought. Why did his father not want to come back to Earth? Didn't he want to see him? Didn't he want to see his wife or his friends, who had since been revived? The boy sighed in his frustration. He had so many questions, and only the empty, dark sky to look to for an answer.

The half-Saiyan boy felt a very large, brown shoe crush a lump of grass near his head, and he looked up into the stern, serious face of his mentor.

"Piccolo," he breathed, his frown melting into a wide smile.

"You should be inside sleeping at this hour," replied the Namekian warrior.

Gohan made a short noise of complaint, and looked up at Piccolo with pleading eyes. The Namek did not move, so neither did the boy. Instead, both of them turned their eyes upward, towards the night sky. Gohan grimaced as his thoughts returned to his absent father.

"Piccolo, when do you think my father will come back?" he asked.

He could practically hear the frown on his mentor's face as he responded. "Gohan, we've had this conversation before, and each time I've given you the same answer. I don't see the point in repeating everything."

"It's just…it's almost been a year, and we haven't heard anything from him," the boy explained. "We haven't even heard from Vegeta, and he's been looking for him in space for months!"

"You should be glad of that fact," Piccolo said, an unhappy edge in his voice. "Vegeta's not looking to bring Goku back when he finds him, Gohan. You know that."

"Bulma says he just wants to become a Super Saiyan," the boy replied.

"Since when did Bulma know so much about Vegeta?" the Namek growled bitterly.

Gohan raised his eyes and smiled playfully. "I guess since he figured out that Bulma's mother's cooking is better than what he can catch out in the wilderness."

Piccolo looked down at the boy for a moment, but didn't respond. Gohan raised his eyebrows and changed the subject. "Do you think my dad is doing alright out there?"

"Goku will be fine on his own," Piccolo said. "You forget that before Bulma met him, he'd spent most of his life living completely alone right here, in these mountains."

"Maybe he liked it better that way," Gohan muttered, his tone tainted with cynicism. "And that's why he refused to come back."

As soon as the words had come out of his mouth, Gohan regretted them. He cast his gaze back towards his mentor, who met his eyes with a disappointed scowl.

"It's just that—it's been so long! And he told the dragon he'd come back, but he hasn't yet!" The boy ripped his gaze away and searched frantically for a way to explain his feelings. "It just feels like…like he doesn't care…"

He sat up and glanced at Piccolo again, prepared to meet the Namekian's heated gaze and maybe a stern lecture. Instead, when Piccolo glanced at him, his expression seemed saddened, as if he had been cut by the boy's resentful remarks. Gohan bit his lip and hung his head, waiting anxiously to hear his mentor's response.

"Gohan," Piccolo began slowly, turning his head again towards the stars. "When the sun rises, where do the stars go?"

The boy furrowed his brow, confused by the question. "They…they don't go anywhere. They stay in the same place; you just can't see them."

"It's the same way with the way people feel about each other," the Namekian explained. "Just because you don't see them, doesn't mean they aren't there in spirit. Your dad is out there somewhere. He may not be ready to come back yet. But that doesn't mean that he has stopped caring about you."

Gohan placed his head in his hands, stewing in his guilt. "I'm sorry, Piccolo. You're right. I didn't mean what I said."

"I know you didn't, kid."

The two warriors fell silent again, both of them casting their gazes back into the infinite void of stars. Gohan leaned back down onto the bed of grass again, his hands resting behind his head. He hoped that Piccolo was right, and that his father was just not ready to come home, for whatever reason. All the boy knew was that he missed his father terribly, and wanted nothing more to see him again. But his friend and mentor was wise, and he trusted his words. His father would come back to Earth eventually.

Gohan only hoped he wouldn't have too much longer to wait.

* * *

**PICCOLO**

After their short conversation, it hadn't taken very long for Gohan to feel the seductive lull of sleep. His eyes eventually fluttered closed Piccolo was soon listening to the soft sound of his snores. The Namekian warrior had scooped up the half-Saiyan boy and deposited him in his room, so his human mother wouldn't be alerted to the boy's absence during the night and wake the entire forest screaming. Afterward, he stood outside Gohan's bedroom window, gazing up once again at the stars and contemplating where the boy's father and his former rival had gone—and whether he'd return.

Thoughts of Goku brought Piccolo back to the day he'd nearly died—for the second time—on Planet Namek. He'd wondered doubtfully for a time if the outrageously powerful and constantly shifting energies he'd felt on Namek had been some kind of mild delusion brought on by his massive blood loss. But as time went on, he grew more and more certain that he'd felt something change in Goku's energy. Something dark had latched on to it, swallowed it whole, and set it afire.

It was a troublesome thought to think of, but as time went on and Goku didn't emerge from the heavens, Piccolo wondered if the Saiyan warrior had meant for it to be that way. After all, he'd refused to come home when wished for by his friends, instead asking the eternal dragon to pass on the message that he'd "come back later."

The Namekian felt a frown cross his features, and he glanced back towards the Son homestead. It was obvious Gohan felt that "later" had long since passed, and that he was beginning to grow bitter with his father's absence. It would only be so long that Piccolo's anecdotes would satisfy the young boy, and then what? He'd be forced to accept one day that Goku might never come back.

With each day that passed without any sign of the Saiyan, the day that Gohan and Goku's other friends and family would have to face reality was coming ever closer. It was a day that Piccolo, however steely his resolve, was dreading. Goku was the Earth's savior several times over, and the hole he'd leave in many people's hearts would be huge.

Piccolo now freely admitted that he'd be one of those people. Goku had evolved from hated rival, to reluctant ally, to someone Piccolo respected immensely. Not only did he respect him, but he cared very much about his son—so much that he'd not hesitate giving up his life for him again. The Saiyan warrior's choice not to return to Earth had opened up a chasm in the Namekian's stone heart too. But the sting of Goku's absence that Piccolo felt was nothing compared to what Gohan was feeling.

As his eyes swept across the night sky one last time, a lone, dark cloud steadily moved in and blocked his view of the stars. Piccolo frowned again, a similar dark presence clouding his mind.

_Goku, for whatever reason you're out there,_ he thought,_ I know it's a good one. I wish you luck, my friend. _

With one final sigh and a last glance towards the Son home, the Namekian warrior silently stalked into the shadowy solitude of the forest to await yet another day.

* * *

**KING COLD**

"What do you mean, 'We'll be there tomorrow'?"

King Cold's face withered into a dangerous scowl, and his many officers shrank away, remembering what their leader had done to countless others who had displeased him. The massive Arcosian tyrant easily towered over the quivering navigational officer who had just now relayed the news of their anticipated—albeit late—arrival to Planet Earth.

Unluckily for the terrified navigator, lateness was not something King Cold tolerated. It had been exactly point eight-three Earth years—or ten Earth months—since the tyrant had learned the tragic news of his youngest son's death. Ten months had passed, each more torturously boring than the last, and now, due to some navigational error, he would be forced to wait one more day for his revenge. For King Cold, such a mistake—however slight—was unacceptable.

In a panic, the offending officer began to beg his superior's understanding and mercy, but to no avail. "My Lord, it took much longer than anticipated to navigate through this solar system's complex ring of asteroids. We'll still arrive—"

The sound of the panicked alien's voice was abruptly cut off by the sickening sound of twisting, tearing ligaments, and the grinding of bone against bone. A split second later, King Cold tossed the navigator's decapitated head onto the floor. His body fell out of his chair with a nauseating thud.

"I will not tolerate errors," King Cold announced to the entire bridge, "especially not when I have demonstrated such extraordinary patience on our journey. Somebody fill his seat and get me to Planet Earth, so I can finally avenge my son."

Another alien shakily approached and reluctantly slid into the dispatched officer's seat. He typed in some coordinates and blinked as the results popped up on the bright screen in front of him.

"My Lord Cold, our estimated time of arrival to Earth is—"

"I was just told _when_ we'll arrive," King Cold snapped, although he resisted the urge to decapitate another fool. "Scan the planet and find a suitable basin where the ship won't be damaged when I begin purging that planet of all its life forms."

"It's already been done, my Lord. Everything is ready."

"Good," the Arcosian growled, and he returned to his massive throne at the center of the bridge.

As a result this minor navigational problem, King Cold was still in quite a distasteful mood. He shouldn't have had to work this hard to make everything work properly on his ship. That's what the minions were for, and they seemed only skilled at displeasing him and then literally losing their heads in his presence. Frowning, the great Arcosian king looked out past the ship's windows, and watched as a planet with an unusually red surface came into view. It was still just a speck in the distance, but due to its brilliant color it was hard not to notice. King Cold's eyes scanned the black void of space methodically, searching for the planet he was targeting.

Finally, after a few moments, he spotted it. At this distance, it was almost impossible to differentiate from a usual star, but if one looked hard enough they could see that it shimmered with a faint blue light.

King Cold finally grinned, and the stretched feeling in his facial muscles told him it had been a very long time since that expression had crossed his features. It had been a bitter ten Earth months, but his mood brightened when he thought of unleashing every bit of pain and anguish he'd felt tenfold upon the Earth's inhabitants. He would cover Earth's surface with the blood and brains and innards of every single Earthling. He would relish every plea for mercy, and every strangled scream of pain that would follow. And, of course, there were the dragon balls to think of as well, and his Frieza's imminent resurrection.

He only had a few hours left to wait.

* * *

**GOKU**

_Breathe in…_

Goku saw within himself, seeking out the part in him that he wanted to conquer. He didn't have to dig deep, for the beast inside him had only retreated into the darkness that lingered at the ragged edges of his conscience. He knew for certain now that it was the Super Saiyan transformation that had triggered its awakening on Namek, because he'd tried to transform again a month later on an uninhabited planet.

_Breathe out…_

When he'd awoken again from the rage-filled haze, the planet had been completely obliterated. Not in the sense that he'd decimated its surface—it simply ceased to exist. Again, he didn't quite remember how he'd gotten into his space pod, attributing it only to the monster's instinct of self-preservation.

_Breathe in…_

The Saiyan warrior remembered a far off, naïve time in his life where he'd looked up at the night sky and wondered what it must be like to explore the endless expanse. He now understood that space was a void of near nothingness that sucked the energy from even the hardiest personalities. It had taken mere days for the boredom and loneliness to consume him as he traveled through the stars, but he resisted the temptation to seek out new life on other worlds, and he'd completely forbidden himself from even thinking about returning to Earth, even turning away the eternal dragon's offer to bring him back. He knew his friends would be devastated to find out that he didn't want to return to his home, but Goku knew it had to be as such.

It was better this way.

_Breathe out…_

Eventually, he'd come across a small, hidden planet floating in a lazy, slow arch around a nebula of stars, and landed to search for food and water. Goku had been surprised to find that the planet had humanoids living on it, and the inhabitants of the planet were sophisticated beings with cities, religion, and government. They even understood how to harness and use energy in the same way Saiyans, Nameks, and Arcosians did. They called themselves and their planet "Yardrat."

_Breathe in…_

Despite his knowledge of the danger his presence posed to the planet, Goku hadn't been able to resist remaining on a planet with life and no trace of loneliness. The Yardrats were kind to him: They had granted him immediate shelter, showered him with food (which he gratefully devoured in copious quantities), and offered to teach him their ways. Wise and philosophical, though not physically strong, the Yardrats could manipulate energy in extraordinary ways. They understood how to influence molecules and had perfected something Goku had come to know as "Instant Transmission." The Yardrats used it to transfer goods back and forth instantaneously, but the Saiyan recognized the hidden potential in the technique and had made it a point to learn it quickly. That way, if he felt the monster within him rise again, he'd be able to get off the planet and spare its inhabitants from the destruction.

_Breathe out…_

Meditation was another thing the Yardrats had impressed upon him; however, this was a skill that Goku was struggling with. He'd mastered focusing on his breathing quickly enough, but he couldn't clear his mind. Every time he thought he'd gotten close, his fears would swoop in and shatter the calm. He was simply too frightened of what had happened on Namek to move on, despite it having been nearly a year since the terrible events. Today, Goku was determined to make it past his terror—to beat the monster inside—and achieve inner tranquility.

_Breathe in…_

Today, however, it would be fear striking from the outside that would interrupt his meditation. Goku's eyes snapped open, and he exhaled the slow breath he'd just taken in. An echo moving light-years away resonated inside his skull, alerting him to potential danger.

An energy signature. He felt it.

Goku closed his eyes again and concentrated, zooming in on the trace of energy like one would adjust a microscope. Whatever it was emitting this energy, it was powerful. _Extremely_ powerful. The Saiyan gasped in a sudden realization as he explored the nature of the energy's source. It was a dark, evil entity emitting this energy; it was tainted.

It felt like Frieza.

The warrior opened his eyes and shook his head in denial. It was Frieza's power—or something extraordinarily similar to it—that he felt. How was such a thing possible? It couldn't be him. It was moving at amazing speed—so much that the Saiyan warrior concluded that whoever the signature belonged to must be on a ship of some kind. But where were they headed? Goku glanced up into the sky, through the hazy atmosphere towards the stars. One of the first things he'd done after the Yardrats had accepted him into their society was ask them about their knowledge of astronomy. He'd wanted to know if he could see Earth's sun from here, so he could glance up and see one reminder of the home he'd resolved to abandon. Thankfully, Yardrat's location was perfect for viewing Earth's sun with the naked eye, and now he stared up with terror ripping at his insides at the familiar, flickering point of light.

The energy signature was headed for Earth.

Goku felt nausea begin to rise up in him at such a thought. Whether it was Frieza was unimportant; the only thing he knew was that an extremely dark and powerful force was rocketing through space towards his home. His family and friends' faces flashed through his consciousness for the millionth time since he'd made the decision to abandon them in favor of keeping them safe from the darkness that resided within him. It had never occurred to Goku that another, even more evil source of terror would target Earth.

And now he'd not be there to defend it.

Panic gripped him, and the Saiyan felt his shaky legs begin to move, and then break out into a sheer run. He ripped through the forest around him, back to the hanger where he knew his space pod was being stored by the Yardrat engineers. Goku passed several of the short, startled aliens, but didn't even acknowledge their presence. His family, his friends, his _home_—they were all in terrible danger, and he had no choice.

He had to leave. He had to return to Earth.

Another icy hand of fear gripped him, and Goku thought of his continuing struggle to control himself in his Super Saiyan form. He'd been lucky on Namek; there'd been nobody on the planet besides Frieza that he could've hurt when he'd lost control of himself. But on Earth, with its billions of inhabitants, things could turn out very differently if he failed to keep the monster crawling just beneath the surface of his skin in check. The Saiyan resolved that whatever foe he was about to face, he'd have to defeat them without using the power his Super Saiyan form gave him. He refused to transform so long as there was a chance that he'd destroy the planet, or hurt anyone he loved.

As he reached the hanger and his pod, and was hastily punching numbers into the keypad to make the door open, Goku thought one more time to the extraordinarily powerful, malevolent force he'd felt moments earlier.

He'd been no match for Frieza before his Super Saiyan transformation, and this person had been just as strong. He was certainly flying towards his own death. But what other choice did he have? He couldn't stay here and watch from afar as his home planet was destroyed.

The door to the pod swung open, and he hopped in. The pod's computer had already been set to Earth's coordinates by one of the Yardrat engineers, in case Goku would have decided to return to Earth of his own accord. As soon as the door had sealed again, he felt the shudder as the engines fired, and watched out the small porthole as the surface of Planet Yardrat shrank away from him as he ascended into space.

In an apathetic, computerized voice, the spacecraft's computer told him that his estimated time of arrival at Planet Earth was approximately twenty-three hours.

Goku rubbed his face with his long white sleeve, panting wildly from his long sprint. His entire body was drenched in a cold sweat as he tried to work things out in his mind. Twenty-three hours? That was less than a day. Surely his friends—and the rest of the Earth's population—would be able to survive twenty-three hours without his help. Once he was close enough to feel their energies, he'd be able to use his new technique to materialize on Earth and assist them.

He only hoped that he wouldn't be too late.

* * *

_**An additional author's note:**__ Because I'm a detail-oriented freak and want my readers to be aware of the subtleties present in my writing, I'd like to point out a few small details: This chapter has to do with the passage of time and the characters' attitudes towards it. _

_Every character's third-person limited narrative—except Goku's—ends with a phrase that uses the word "wait." They're all waiting for something: Gohan for his father to return, Piccolo for the beginning of a new day and for everyone around him to realize Goku might not come back, and finally King Cold for his arrival to Earth. Goku's segment is different; his portion of the narrative ends with the words "too late." Now, if you are unsure how these little details are significant, go and look up the meaning of the word "foreshadowing." _

_Also, don't forget to review! THANK YOU for your readership!_


	4. Arrival

_**Disclaimer: **I own nothing._

_**Author's Note: **Sorry for the long wait on this one, folks. School has me so extraordinarily busy that I have little energy to come home and write at the end of the day. Despite that fact, this is the longest chapter yet, and we get to meet Trunks. He's a little bit different in my version of the story, so be on the lookout for that small detail—it will be important to remember in later chapters. For now, read, review, and enjoy!_

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: ARRIVAL**

* * *

**VEGETA**

The Prince of all Saiyans didn't think he'd ever felt so disgusted with himself. He sat sprawled out across the captain's chair in the capsule ship he'd abducted from the Earthlings, his boots propped up uncaringly on the control panel. He was filthy; the fabric of his uniform was in tatters and the armor he wore still had multiple cracks and holes—evidence of his multiple failures on Planet Namek. Vegeta scowled at the unpleasant thought. As if he needed one more reminder.

He was a failure—an utter, complete, and total failure.

About nine months ago, his stony resolve to leave the pathetic humans and Namekians to their stupidity and train alone in Earth's wilderness had crumbled, and he'd crawled back to the place where they'd gathered like a sick dog. It pained him to think of his actions now. It hadn't been that he'd been unable to sustain himself in the wild; it was just the opposite. He'd found everything he'd ever needed to survive for years. But everywhere he went, there were humans—and their goddamned, mouthwatering cooking. Every night when he was settling in with some new type of foreign meat he had caught and killed, the smells had wafted in from some homestead in the distance. It had nearly driven the prince insane. He'd crashed more than a few dinners, scaring families from their homes and gorging himself on their food, before he realized that there was a better alternative.

It took a few days for Vegeta to let go of his massive pride, of course. But when he'd finally waltzed into the bizarre dome-shaped structure where the annoying Earthling woman lived with her family and about a hundred Namekian visitors, the first thing he'd smelled was the food. It made anything he'd smelled out in the wilderness seem like nothing more than crudely prepared gruel. The woman preparing it wasn't the blue-haired witch; this one was considerably older, wore a near-constant smile, and had platinum blonde curls permanently fixed to the top of her head. Despite her strange appearance, she hadn't seemed too surprised or displeased to find the disheveled, dirty Saiyan in her kitchen. Vegeta later learned that she was the mother of the one called Bulma, but it wasn't two minutes after arriving that he understood where the girl's gift for irritating him had come from. Bunny was unbelievably maddening, with her incessant prattling and her constant giggles and titters. But unlike her daughter, she enjoyed Vegeta's company, she complimented him, and most importantly, she prepared food that both tasted and smelled like it had floated down to the table from heaven. Vegeta had vehemently refused to leave the compound since that day, despite the deplorable people he had to tolerate, simply because the meals prepared there were _that good_.

Vegeta couldn't help a small smile when he thought of the food he'd be able to eat again once he landed again on Earth, instead of the freeze-dried abominations he was forced to consume in space. But the smile was quickly whisked away when he realized the incessant questions he'd have to endure before he'd even get the chance to enjoy a good meal, and he was reminded again of his multiple, shameful failures.

A few months after he'd made Capsule Corp his residence, the eternal dragon had announced to the awe-struck ears of their strange group of Earthlings and aliens that Kakarot was alive and wished not to return to Earth. Upon hearing the news, Vegeta reluctantly abandoned Earth to head to space in search of the other Saiyan. He hadn't intended to bring Kakarot back, of course. He had intended to smoke him out, challenge him, and settle the score between them forever. Vegeta had also hoped to discover the secret to Kakarot's transformation into a Super Saiyan on his journey through the void. However, in both of his exertions, the Saiyan prince had been utterly unsuccessful.

Now he was returning to Earth, with no answers, and nothing to show for his efforts. It frustrated him beyond belief, to the point that he wondered briefly if there was any point in laboring on as he had for so long. But Vegeta refused to give up—to do so would be an insult to his esteemed bloodline.

His ship would be returning to Earth's atmosphere in a few moments, and Vegeta braced himself for the inevitable impact. The ship violently jolted as the craft collided with the gas surrounding the planet, and the insides grew heated. Sweat formed on the Saiyan prince's brow, but the readings on the control panel were all normal, and it wasn't seconds later that he braced himself again for landing.

* * *

**BULMA**

The heiress was right in the middle of sipping her iced tea and swatting away Oolong's wandering hands when she heard what she thought was thunder. Bulma blinked and glanced up into the sky, shielding her eyes from the harsh sunlight with a hand. It was a clear, beautiful day, but she had sworn she'd heard a noise that sounded just like the booms of a thundercloud. However, there wasn't a single puff of cloud in the sky. Perplexed, the blue-haired woman turned back to her companions. Yamcha, Oolong, and Puar all had joined her outside on the patio with their own beverages.

"Hey guys, did you hear—"

Bulma's words were abruptly cut off by a sudden, earth-shattering crash. She covered her head, dived under the glass tabletop, and screamed in terror, convinced the world was ending for the bazillionth time. It was only after Yamcha had stood up and muttered something rude under his breath that she glanced up.

"What is it, Yamcha?" Bulma asked, still a little shaky.

The blatant dislike in her boyfriend's voice was impossible not to notice. "It's Vegeta," the warrior grumbled, and he got up and walked determinedly out the door to meet the Saiyan as he exited his ship. Upon mention of the Saiyan's name, both Oolong and Puar shot each other nervous glances and hurriedly scurried inside.

Bulma cringed as she awkwardly crawled out from underneath the table. She really, really, really didn't want to deal with the stubborn Saiyan prince right now. Especially after the freaky dream she'd had about him last night.

_Why would I dream about kissing Vegeta, of all people? _She thought, gagging at the thought.

She hadn't told Yamcha, of course. It was ridiculous—just a weird dream that meant nothing. But still, the idea of seeing Vegeta now was unnerving to her. Bulma was about to slip inside to a quiet room in order to avoid a humiliating confrontation, when her mother's smiling face peeked through the balcony doors to the outside.

"Bulma dear, Vegeta's back! Why don't you go down and greet him with a little of my famous iced tea?"

Bulma frowned and rolled her eyes. "No, Mom, I don't want to go greet grumpy Mr. I'm-so-great-I'm-a-Saiyan-prince-and-you're-not!"

"Nicknames aren't polite, dear," Bunny reminded, unfazed by her daughter's obvious dislike for her houseguest. "Besides, you'd be grumpy too if the prettiest girl in the house didn't give you the time of day! Now go on down and give him this tea for me; I know he'll be grateful."

Bulma pouted as her mother speedily shoved a glass of tea into her reluctant hands and pushed her out the balcony doors and down the stairs towards the outside. The blue-haired heiress could already hear the shouting match beginning between Vegeta and Yamcha.

"You know, mom," Bulma mentioned with another eyeroll, "Yamcha really doesn't like Vegeta being here."

"Oh, he's just not used to another male authority," Bunny replied instantly, still herding her daughter towards the door that led to the front yard. "You just wait dear; they'll be cracking jokes and playing Parcheesi in no time."

"Argh! Vegeta does not play Parcheesi! And neither does Yamcha! Or anyone anymore for that matter!"

Bulma spun around to face her mother, still gripping the slippery glass of iced tea in her hands and gritting her teeth. She shot her mother a pleading look.

"Don't make me do this mom," Bulma whined. "I hate him!"

Bunny's smile miraculously disappeared. "'Hate' is a four-letter word in this house, young lady!" she scolded.

"I'm thirty years old, mom! I'm old enough to use that word!"

"Is that so? Thirty years and you still haven't given me any grandbabies! Honestly, Bulma, you and that man had better get busy or it'll be too late."

"Me and _Vegeta?!_" Bulma screeched, completely horrified, her dream still fresh in her mind.

Bunny made a sympathetic clicking sound with her tongue and shook her head. "No honey, I meant Yamcha, of course. He's still your boyfriend isn't he?"

"Of course he is!"

Bunny paused to daintily adjust her hairdo. "Well, in any case, Bulma: You still live under my roof, and until that changes, you'll treat Vegeta with kindness and respect!"

With that, Bunny pushed Bulma out the front door and into the sunlight. The girl awkwardly stumbled a few feet, but before she even looked up she could hear the insults being hurled back and forth between the two stubborn men. Reluctantly, Bulma held her head high, put on her most stoic, uncaring face, and walked towards them. Yamcha and Vegeta were inches away from one another, both puffing out their chests, and screaming into each other's faces.

"No, you listen!" Yamcha was yelling. "You're not welcome around here anymore! No more coming and eating all the food and making eyes at my girl!"

"For your information, you unbelievable idiot, that food is the _only_ reason I haven't killed all of you worthless, irritating humans, including that useless, driveling witch!"

"Hey! I'm right here, stupid!" Bulma cut in as she stepped behind Yamcha. "And I am plenty useful, Vegeta!"

Vegeta's fiery gaze turned towards her, but then he chuckled darkly. "Really? I'd like to see how."

Bulma felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as his eyes slowly slid up and down her body. She resisted the urge to cringe, her thoughts once again touching on last night's disturbing dream. Yamcha looked ready to explode.

"I swear to God, Vegeta, take your eyes off her right now!"

"Or you'll what?"

As the shouting match began again, Bulma sighed and felt like slapping the palm of her head into her forehead in an overly dramatic gesture of exasperation. Her life had become like one of those soap operas her mother watched, only more hazardous. The characters in those televised dramas never had to worry about the planet being in peril whenever her boyfriend and their unwanted houseguest clashed. It was all Vegeta's fault, and Bulma couldn't comprehend why she'd ever thought he'd be grateful or polite towards them for sharing their home. The Saiyan prince was anything but charming, and he was never one to show any kind of subtlety or class, which drove Yamcha into a rage every time the other warrior looked at her.

As she watched the two men in front of her erupt in argument yet again, Bulma wished she'd never offered Vegeta the invitation to come stay with them after the events on Planet Namek; she wished he'd disappeared in the wilderness forever. But Vegeta had outright refused to leave after arriving, citing Bulma's mother's cooking as reason enough to make Capsule Corp his permanent residence. The only thing that the temperamental prince desired more than Bunny's food was to find and fight Goku, so when he'd thankfully left for space a few months ago to search for the other Saiyan, her life had finally returned to a blissful normalcy. However, now that Vegeta had returned, Bulma didn't even want to think about the rollercoaster her life would become—again.

She had to take the necessary steps to prevent that, she decided. Step one: She had to keep Yamcha and Vegeta from killing one another.

"Shut up, you MORONS!" Bulma screeched, her voice carrying and bouncing off the nearby dome. "I have had ENOUGH!"

Both men instantly stopped their brawling to turn and stare at her in surprise.

"I swear, if I could turn into a Super Saiyan and pummel you both, I would!" she vented, squeezing the glass of tea between her hands so hard she thought she might shatter it. "Yamcha, just stay away from Vegeta!"

Yamcha began to protest. "But Bulma, he—"

"I said zip it!" Bulma cut him off, before turning to the other warrior. "And _you_, Vegeta, stay away from both of us!"

The prince narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Nobody gives me orders, least of all a human, and especially a human woman! If you value your life—"

"Oh, please! We all know you'd never do anything to endanger my mother cooking for you, and killing me or Yamcha would definitely fall into that category! So stop strutting around like a peacock thinking that we'll all grovel before your awesome presence, because it is NOT happening!"

There was a tense moment, as Vegeta's face twisted into a ferocious snarl. He looked ready to erupt into a massive ball of fury, when Bulma suddenly thrust out the glass of iced tea towards him, stretching her arm it as far as she could in an effort to keep as far away as possible.

"Speaking of my mom, she wanted me to give you this."

The Saiyan prince blinked, his rage suddenly replaced with bewilderment, as the blue-haired woman offered the beverage, as if it were a peace treaty being offered in a time of war. His gaze glided up to meet her own, his eyes dark and distrustful.

"It's not poisoned, you jerk," she sighed. "Just take it."

"Fine," Vegeta reached out and snatched the drink from her. He discarded the pink umbrella that sat on the edge of the glass and smashed it immediately under his heel. "Just tell your idiot mate stay out of my way."

"It's called a 'boyfriend', not a 'mate!'" Bulma added, throwing up her hands for emphasis. Suddenly, her expression softened as she looked past the angry Saiyan towards the ship he'd crash-landed in her front yard. "So you didn't you find Goku out there, huh?"

"No," Vegeta grunted unhappily. He took a tentative sip of the tea, his face brightening momentarily at the taste, before morphing back to his usual angry scowl. "And I don't like to be reminded of it, so don't mention it again!"

"I don't believe you," Yamcha interrupted. "Goku couldn't have just disappeared without a trace!"

"Shut up, you fool!" Vegeta shouted heatedly. "It's obvious that Kakarot doesn't want to be found. I scoured dozens of planets, but there was nothing!"

Bulma let out another exasperated screech. "Would you both just stop it already? It's not even been two minutes you've been back, Vegeta, and you're already giving me a headache."

"My pleasure," the Saiyan retorted with a wicked smirk.

Bulma cringed and took a step back. Vegeta even uttering the word "pleasure" brought images from last night's dream flashing through her mind with a disturbing vibrancy. That was it; she couldn't stand the sight Vegeta any longer. Without another word, she grasped Yamcha's arm, whirled him abruptly around, and marched back towards the compound.

"Honestly, Yamacha!" she whispered under her breath. "Why do you always have to get in his face? He's going to kill you someday!"

The scarred warrior looked insulted. "I'd like to see him try!"

"And I'd like you to stay in one piece!" Bulma countered angrily.

Their argument was suddenly interrupted by the sharp, almost musical sound of a glass shattering against the concrete behind him. Bulma and Yamcha turned around, looks of confusion affixed on both their faces. Their eyes fell upon Vegeta, who had dropped the glassful of iced tea Bulma had brought to him. The blue-haired heiress was just about to rip Vegeta a new one for being such a clumsy, rude, and annoying jerk, when she looked up and saw his face.

The Saiyan prince looked absolutely stricken with shock. She watched as he spun around and fixed his gaze towards some unseen horror in the sky above them.

"No," the prince murmured, his tone emulating a rare helplessness. "It can't be…"

Bulma raised an eyebrow and leaned towards Yamcha to ask what he thought about the scene unfolding before them, when she heard her boyfriend's harsh intake of breath. The audible gasp startled her, and she blinked at him, noticing that his eyes were also concentrating on the sky.

"Holy…" Yamcha began, but he was too much in shock to continue.

Bulma held out her hands, desperate for some answers to explain why these two warriors seemed so fearful. "What is it?! Is there something up in the sky? Yamcha, Vegeta, talk to me!"

Yamcha granted her a nervous glance, and she could see the beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"I'm sensing an insanely high power level up there," he began hesitantly, "and it's headed this way."

Bulma lit up, throwing her hands into the air above her head. "A high power level? That has to be Goku, right? Come on, guys, tell me it's him!"

"It's _not_ Kakarot!" Vegeta's voice abruptly cut in. He actually sounded panicked, something Bulma had never heard before.

Yamcha stepped forward a bit and glanced at the prince. "What is it? I've never felt an energy signature this powerful before. Could it—could it be Frieza?"

"Frieza can't be alive," Bulma gasped, joining the two men. "Goku defeated him on Namek! We all know that!"

Both she and Yamcha looked curiously towards the Saiyan prince, their eyes desperately pleading for answers. Vegeta's eyes didn't leave the spot of sky he was so fixedly concentrating on, but after a few tense moments of silence, he spoke.

"It's much worse than Frieza," Vegeta replied, his voice cold and distant, as if he were disconnected from all that was happening around him. "It's his father."

* * *

**KRILLIN**

"Krillin, are you feeling this?"

Master Roshi sat up in his lawn chair, his sunglasses-covered eyes turned towards the skies above. His student, clad in his traditional Turtle School uniform, was a few feet away. Krillin felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach as he felt an incredibly powerful—and utterly terrifying—energy rocketing towards Earth.

He wasn't 100% sure, but this signature felt like that of Frieza's. The very thought of the Arcosian tyrant coming to Earth nearly brought up all of the contents of the small warrior's stomach. Even though months had passed since the events on Planet Namek, he still woke up in the middle of the night with cold sweat pouring off of him, his sleep plagued with nightmares of being trust into the air and exploding into a thousand pieces.

Even if this energy that both he and his master were feeling wasn't Frieza, the alarm apparent in Roshi's voice alerted Krillin that the person possessing such power was not coming to Earth for milk and cookies. Roshi had been around a very, very long time, and had learned not only to distinguish the subtle differences between the energies of individual warriors; he'd also taught himself to sense the distinction between light and dark energies and Krillin was willing to bet that Roshi had sensed the latter. A person with dark energy was almost certainly evil.

"Krillin!" Roshi shouted, turning towards his student with an impatient expression. "Did you hear me?"

"Of course I did! I feel it too…" Krillin's voice trailed off as he took a deep breath. "This is really, really bad. I have to call Gohan."

The young man spun on his heels and ran into the pink house, skidding to a halt beside the phone. He hastily dialed the Son family's home number and pressed his ear to the receiver. He counted the rings that echoed in his ear, praying that someone would pick up.

Finally, on the fourth ring, a familiar voice answered.

"Son residence," a deceptively friendly-sounding female voice greeted. "This is Chi-chi speaking."

"It's me!" Krillin practically shouted into the phone. "Put Gohan on the line!"

The friendliness in Chi-chi's voice instantly disappeared, and her voice became as cold and hard as the edge of a knife. "Gohan is studying right now, and I will not interrupt him, Krillin!"

"Chi-chi, this isn't a joke. This is an emergency!" Krillin felt the tone of his voice rise nearly an entire octave in his sheer panic.

"No, an emergency is my Gohan not getting into an Ivy League school because a certain someone keeps interrupting his studies!" the woman on the other line countered, her tone heated.

"Chi-chi, there's no time for this! Put Gohan on, NOW!"

Before Goku's wife could reprimand him yet again, Krillin heard another familiar voice come through the receiver. It was garbled and faint, but he knew it was his friend. The short warrior listened intently as another conflict erupted on the other line.

"Mom, who is it?"

"Gohan, you get back in your room this instant! You're supposed to be studying!"

"But—but I keep feeling this scary energy—"

"Get BACK in your room, young man!"

"Gohan!" Krillin interjected, hoping he was loud enough to be heard by the young Saiyan. "It's Krillin!"

There was a sudden mess of sounds from the other end of the line. It sounded as if the phone had been dropped, or that two people were grappling for control over it. Krillin suspected the latter, and when Chi-chi's shrill cry permeated the static mess a moment later, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Gohan, you come back here with that phone this instant!"

There was the sound of a door being slammed, and then then a young boy's exasperated sigh.

"Hey Krillin," Gohan said, his voice tinged with uneasiness. "You feel it too, huh?"

"I'm afraid so, Gohan," Krillin replied. "It feels like Frieza, but at the same time, it doesn't. It's confusing."

"I'm getting that too. But how can it be Frieza? My dad was supposed to have destroyed him!"

The young monk anxiously glanced out the window towards the source of the enormous energy barreling towards them. He had another vivid flashback of his body careening into the air before he felt the pressure in his chest grow to excruciating proportions—then a massive burst of searing pain—then nothingness. Krillin audibly gasped, and the phone nearly slipped out of his sweaty palm.

"Gohan," he breathed, struggling to stay afloat in his growing sea of fear, "there's only one way to be sure. We have to meet whoever this is where he lands. I'm sure everyone else will have felt his presence by now."

There was a moment of silence that permeated the connection between the two friends. Finally, Gohan spoke up, but his voice was trembling.

"You're right. We'll need all of the help we can get. I'll meet you in five, okay?"

"Right. Bye."

Krillin listened for the click at the other end of the line before slamming the phone back down. He spun around again, this time bursting through the door past his master, who had gotten up and was hobbling towards the house. Roshi stumbled out of the young man's way before Krillin sprung into the air, his aura flaring around him, propelling him at intense speed towards the mainland.

"Good luck, Krillin!" the younger warrior heard his longtime master yell after him.

_We'll need all the luck we can get, _Krillin thought cynically. _I wish Goku were here…_

Goku—Krillin's best friend—had been the one who had once been the world's last line of hope and defense so many times, but now he had mysteriously refused to return home. The fact that Goku hadn't wanted to come back to Earth both baffled and saddened the short warrior. He missed his childhood rival and longtime friend, and he wondered where he was. Earth needed Goku right now, and for the first time in a very long time, he was not there to protect it and its people.

That left that monumental responsibility in the hands of a handful of warriors, Krillin included, though he doubted he'd help much against a power level this massive. In fact, they all would need a miracle, but without Goku around miracles seemed impossible. The young warrior swallowed, his throat feeling like it had been coated in sandpaper, his mouth dry. He tried to remind himself that he'd died twice before, and everything had still turned out fine in the end. He thought about the possibility of a third experience with death with an air of dark humor.

_Well, third time's the charm._

* * *

**KING COLD**

"My Lord, the landing process has started. We're beginning to enter the planet's atmosphere."

"Wonderful. Scan the planet for any life forms that possess high power levels," responded King Cold, stroking his lip with a single finger. "I want each of them smoked out."

So far, the newly replaced navigations officer had been doing his job in a competent and punctual manner, so the massive Acrosian monarch had felt no need to kill him. He glanced out the ship's window towards the mysterious Planet Earth. So this was the pathetic little mud ball whizzing around a mediocre star that the rogue Saiyan, who had murdered his dear Frieza, called home? It was more than pitiful.

"There are approximately seven power levels that are above average, my Lord," one of his soldiers reported. "It appears they are all focused in the same location."

King Cold raised his eyebrows, but then a wicked smile crossed his face. "A welcome party? These vermin are making it all too easy. Land the ship near their little gathering."

"Yes, my Lord."

The Arcosian tyrant briefly contemplated a simpler, quicker fix as they soared past the Earth's moon: Blowing up the planet from outside its atmosphere might prove to be fun, and a good fireworks show besides. He'd even heard a rumor from a very reliable source that the remaining inhabitants of Planet Namek had settled on a new planet, and had created a new set of dragon balls. Accordingly, there was no longer any need to spare Planet Earth because it too possessed the mythical objects. But even as he entertained such musings, he easily brushed them away. His grief for his lost son was still fresh, and his thirst for revenge would not be sated by disposing Earth from afar. Some jobs needed to be conducted at a much more personal level. The Arcosian king was eager after ten months in space to look into the faces of the people who defended this disgusting little ball of dirt as he killed him. It had been a very long time since he'd set foot on the battlefield himself, and he was growing excited with the anticipation.

There was a slight shift as the ship switched from artificial gravity and adjusted to that of Earth. The ship descended over the planet, whizzing past the location where the abnormal power levels had congregated, before powering down and landing in the predetermined landing zone.

"My Lord, the landing process is complete," the new navigational officer reported. "We have reached our destination."

"Superb," replied the monarch.

King Cold rose from his throne and stretched his legs, while the bridge of his ship became a noisy bustle of shuffling soldiers and scientists. The latter were preparing reports about the planet's core density, the minerals present in the planet crust, and the potential for terraforming. It might be possible to gain more than just revenge from this endeavor: If suitable, Planet Earth would be sold as part of the Planet Trade bounty just like hundreds of other planets before it. If not, it would be destroyed with a flick of King Cold's wrist.

There was a shudder as the ships main hatch opened directly above him, and the oxygen-rich air and the warm sunlight leaked into the ship's dimly-lit bridge. King Cold floated through the round opening, hovering in the air for a moment to survey the surroundings. They'd landed in an especially desolate area so that there would be no risk of damaging his ship while he and his soldiers were purging Earth of its life forms. Around him, the gigantic tyrant saw was brown, dusty dirt and rocky crags.

"So this is the Planet Earth," he commented to no one in particular. "How very quaint!"

Below him, King Cold saw that his first squadron of soldiers was assembling. He floated gently downward, his feet gingerly landing on the soft dirt of the planet surface, his head turning this way and that. His minions instantly stood at attention, readying for him to begin barking out orders. The King brow furrowed in frustration. There wasn't any visible sign of life within his view. He'd expected at least a few Earth warriors to meet him on the ground, but it seemed that they had been too cowardly to come and face him outright.

_How rude,_ he thought, clearly displeased. He turned towards the officer in charge.

"Scan for potential life forms nearby," he commanded impatiently. "There should be seven power levels within our range, and I want to know why they're keeping me waiting."

The man in front of him surveyed their position with his scouter. After the machine had finished running its scan, however, the officer looked as if he were going to be sick. King Cold scowled down at him, seeing the beads of sweat beginning to form on the officer's forehead, but his expression remained apathetic.

"Something the matter?" he asked, when the officer hesitated to report his findings.

"It—It seems that the seven power levels previously reported have…" the man's voice shook as he struggled to continue. "…have disappeared."

"What? Impossible!" King Cold replied, his eyes raising up to survey the surrounding crags and peaks again. "The scouter must be defective. Do it again!"

"Right, of course, my Lord," said the soldier, who hastily grabbed another's scouter and performed the same action again. However, his speed this time was slowed because he was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm under the tyrant's gaze.

King Cold crossed his arms and huffed unhappily. Really, was it too much to ask for officers who could complete their jobs in a capable and prompt manner? How many officers would he have to rip apart in order to find one that could proficiently perform his duties? Reluctantly, however, the king resisted the urge to tear the terrified man to shreds. They were very far away from his or his sons' territories. He had already dispatched quite a few minions for their insolence on this trip, and it would be a very bothersome hassle to have to replace such a number of followers. Finally, the officer's second scan was completed, but the man looked more confused and afraid than he had before.

"M-my apologies, my Lord," he stuttered. "It seems that there still is_ one_ abnormally high power level within our range."

"_One?_" King Cold said, raising a single eyebrow quizzically. "Well, I suppose that's better than nothing. Find him and bring him to me—alive."

"Yes, of course, my Lord!" The officer seemed genuinely surprised to still be in one piece. King Cold certainly hoped he was grateful—he'd killed many other soldiers for much lesser offenses. "Men, move out!"

The first squadron of multi-colored aliens sprung into the air, their scanners emitting a musical series of beeps and tones as they systematically scanned the landscape to find the lone energy signature. King Cold watched them rise up beyond his view, before turning towards another one of his remaining officers.

"Bring a glass of wine," he ordered. "I'm going to thoroughly enjoy myself here."

The officer nodded and was about to leave the King's side when a sudden chorus of screams, followed shortly thereafter by the sound of several sickening thuds, interrupted him. Both the officer and King Cold glanced in the direction of the sounds, and to their surprise, out of the sky fell a macabre and gory sight: Several detached heads, limbs, and torsos landed in the dirt in front of them, soaking the dust with blood and other brightly colored bodily fluids. The entire first squadron had been reduced to a pile of reeking flesh. King Cold's nostrils flared, as his eyes shot up towards the clouds, searching for the person who dared attack his soldiers.

A lone figure descended from the sky, clad in a blue jacket, black pants, and brown boots. King Cold studied him curiously. He appeared to be young, had tanned skin, and sported cropped lavender hair that was parted down the middle. A few strands fell into his blue eyes as he landed in front of the displeased Arcosian king. He reached up his a hand and brushed the offending hair back, a smirk creasing his features as his other hand slid a massive, blood-stained sword back into a sheath that was slung across his back. King Cold frowned disdainfully back at him, until he noticed one more thing detail about the young man: A long, furry appendage tightened around his waist. King Cold's eyes widened.

It was a Saiyan tail.

"Sorry, but I'm afraid Earth's table service will have to be cancelled," the newcomer jeered, his tone cocky and confident.

King Cold's red eyes scanned the stranger once more, again noting the unmistakable Saiyan tail wrapped around the young man's waist. His mind returned to the harrowing news he'd received ten months ago: His youngest son had been tragically killed, and a lone Saiyan warrior was believed to be to blame. Was this the warrior that had dispatched Frieza?

"Well, that's a shame," King Cold scoffed, playing along with the youth's cocky quip. "I looking forward to that wine, and besides, I was expecting a guest."

"Sorry to disappoint," the young man sneered. "But Goku won't be joining us. "

The Arcosian's face creased into a scowl. What was this "Goku" that the boy spoke of? His confusion was noted by the mysterious warrior, who smiled again at him.

"You came here to find the Saiyan that killed your son on Namek," the youth explained. "I'm a Saiyan, but not the one you're looking for. Goku's the one who destroyed Frieza."

"Is that so? And who might you be?"

"My name is Trunks," responded the young warrior. "Take note, because you'll never get the chance to avenge your son's death. I'm going to end you right here."

King Cold couldn't help but chuckle at the absurd notion, but the boy's cockiness was quickly beginning to become obnoxious. The Arcosian's voice adopted a cold, unfeeling, and deadly edge. "I don't think you know what you're up against, boy, and frankly I—"

"I know exactly what I'm up against, King Cold!" the Saiyan interrupted, earning himself an infuriated glare from the tyrant. "And let me tell you: I'm _not _worried."

King Cold's eyes widened and he sucked a heated breath through his clenched teeth. How dare this little insect waltz in and insult him in such a repugnant, arrogant manner? His normally calm countenance threatened to melt away, but the Arcosian monarch managed to keep his cool.

"Well, you certainly are long-winded little ankle-biter, aren't you?" he said, holding his chin aloft in the air. "You might be a Saiyan, but you are no more powerful than any of the other vermin that I've trodden underfoot. You might be perceived as strong in whatever hole you crawled out of, but I assure you—I'm in another class entirely."

"You certainly are," responded the young man, his sardonic tone suggesting that it was the Arcosian that was really the vermin.

That was the final straw for King Cold. He'd had enough of this little Saiyan's arrogance smirk, his witty retorts, and his unforgivable assumption that he was the stronger of the two titans. He was a mere pest with a big mouth, the king decided, and he had to be exterminated.

"I will listen to no more of these insults! All of you!" he shouted towards his remaining soldiers. "Destroy this rodent immediately!"

There was the immediate buzz of several blasters powering up, and the squadron of soldiers to the Arcosian king's right took aim at the obnoxious Saiyan brat. Unsurprisingly, the young warrior didn't look fazed. But it didn't matter—he would be dead and out of the way soon enough. King Cold smiled, his expression chilled and ruthless.

"Bye bye, little Saiyan," he murmured wistfully to himself as the blasters fired, sending dozens of sizzling masses of energy whizzing at impossible speed towards the lone Saiyan.

The explosion in front of him was massive, the heat scorching. Many of the soldiers moved to shield their eyes and their faces from the flying debris and blinding light, but King Cold stood fast, his arms still crossed in front of his chest and his face stoic. It took a few moments for the dust to settle, and when it did, the Arcosian tyrant grinned in sweet satisfaction.

Where the young Saiyan warrior had stood seconds before, only a ragged-edged, immense crater existed. There was no sign of the wordy little brat. He'd been completely vaporized by the blasters.

_As it should be,_ King Cold thought, pleased.

"You there," he turned his head towards the nearest minion. "I'm still waiting for that wine."

"Oh, my apologies, my Lord!" the man scrambled back towards the ship. "Right away!"

The towering Acrosian watched the soldier scurry frantically back into the ship, and then turned and surveyed the jagged, mountainous landscape surrounding him one more time. There was no sign of any other creature, besides the lone Saiyan he'd just destroyed. King Cold sighed heavily, and then rubbed his temple. It seemed that he would be here a while, seeking out the friends of this "Goku" and disposing of them one by one. While he looked forward to the bloody revenge, the search that came before it would undoubtedly be unspeakably boring. With another unhappy sigh, he faced another squadron of soldiers.

"Spread out—a man to each populated area," he commanded. "Destroy everything in sight, _unless_ you come across this 'Goku' or anyone who knows him. Should this be the case, I want them brought to me immediately, alive and unscathed. Is that clear?"

There came the expected chorus of obedient replies, and men began to spring into the air. The Arcosian king watched as the squadron split up, each man headed in different direction. It wouldn't be long now, he decided. Destroying cities and innocent populations had a tendency for smoking out the strongest fighters on each planet, and after they'd revealed themselves, it would be more than an easy job to eradicate them as well. King Cold allowed himself a callous smile. He only hoped it wouldn't take Earth's remaining defenders too long to show themselves.

After all, revenge was a dish best served "cold."

* * *

**Additional Author's Note**: _Sorry for the abrupt cut-off, as well as the unforgivable pun in the last sentence. I could not resist. Don't worry-Trunks is not gone; he'll be back. _

_I feel that I should address the fact that this is the first chapter I've written that did not contain a segment from Goku's perspective, and I intended it to be that way. I wanted to emphasize Goku's absence in both this chapter and the next-to make it more readily apparent how alone those on Earth are against the threat of King Cold without their hero. And for those of you who may think that our favorite Arcosian king will go down as easily as he did in the series-well, that will just not be so in Divergence. I like him too much to kill him just yet. : ) _

_Thanks again for reading, and don't forget to leave a review! I had much less than anticipated for the previous chapter and am no longer above begging for more..._


	5. Transformation

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's Note: **_Again, I apologize for the longer-than-usual wait on this chapter. Now I'm not only in the throes of the school year, but I'm also directing a middle school play—so as you can imagine, my time to unwind and write at home exists in a state of perpetual nihility._

_This chapter stands apart from the others, because weeks after I wrote it, an idea sparked in my brain and I was unable to resist the temptation to go back and heavily edit its contents—as well as many of the following chapters. The result is one of my favorite segments in the story. As someone who's never had an affinity for the Arcosian characters (I enjoyed their gleeful evilness, yes—but not on the same level as I did the Saiyans), I never anticipated I could have such fun writing King Cold's character. He has proven to be one truly enjoyable tyrant to depict! I hope that you, my readers, enjoy my portrayal of him as much as I do. _

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE: TRANSFORMATION**

* * *

**PICCOLO**

By the time all of the Earth's remaining defenders, plus Bulma and an especially irritable Vegeta, had finally gathered in this remote landscape, it was clear that what they were faced with was something hopelessly beyond their power to remedy.

The Saiyan prince had relayed that it wasn't Frieza's energy they were feeling, but that of his father, King Cold. He was, according to Vegeta's testimony, equally as powerful as Frieza, if not more so. Like dust on a battlefield, it had slowly settled in each of their hearts that this would most likely be the last day on Earth.

Piccolo, of course, had remained stoic and detached throughout the entire dialogue. He wasn't as obviously devastated as some of the humans, but he had his attachments to this world. It had been his home too, after all, and now many of the others were now looking to him for leadership as they wallowed in their fear. The discussion had been short, and Piccolo had been blunt. They could be wise and wait to see what they were up against, but there was no point in running away just because they were outmatched. They were going to stay and fight to the last man.

Remarkably, Vegeta had been the Namekian's greatest supporter on this issue. He wanted to have a go at Frieza's father for his own selfish reasons, of course, but his backing helped to convince all of the others to stay to the end, even if it was a bitter, painful one.

Now, as the strange collection of warriors climbed awkwardly over the rocks and ravines, not yet daring draw attention to themselves by resorting to flight, Piccolo thought about the people he would miss. There were only a few, and one of them wasn't even on Earth.

However, the one that mattered most was right next to him.

Gohan had stuck close to the Namekian warrior as they clumsily made their way closer to where the great power level had landed in a massive ship moments before. The boy kept throwing him worried glances that spoke volumes about his fears. Piccolo could only offer silent, apathetic glances in return. He knew that what Gohan wanted to hear was that everything was going to be all right, but that was completely untrue in this situation. They were most certainly not all right. Piccolo couldn't deny that fact, and he wouldn't lie to the boy he'd come to think of as the son he never had.

Just as they were crossing a particularly deep ravine, the ground beneath them shuddered with a terrible jolt. It nearly knocked Gohan off the side of the precipice he was scaling, but Piccolo reached down and grasped the young Saiyan's hand just in time. He hoisted Gohan up to a safer place with a small, sad smile.

"Thanks, Piccolo," the boy said gratefully.

"Hey, what was that?" Bulma's curious voice shouted from the tail end of the group. "An earthquake?"

Piccolo's eyes scanned the horizon, resting on a swirling cloud of dust rising in the distance.

"An explosion near the ship," he replied, his eyes narrowing. "Something is happening. Cold's energy level is spiking slightly."

"He's going to level this entire place to find us!" Vegeta barked angrily. "I don't see why we can't just fly out there and get it this over with, instead of crawling around like fearful dogs!"

Piccolo threw the Saiyan prince a sharp glance. "If you want to do that, be my guest, Vegeta. But you know as well as I that we'll only stand a chance against him if we stick together."

The prince simply grunted in response, and glanced past the Namekian towards the place where the blast had detonated. Both warriors stared, and both warriors waited, but there were no additional blasts, and the landscape remained intact.

"Let's keep moving," Piccolo said to the group, before walking forward and moving towards the scene where they would all certainly met their end.

* * *

**TRUNKS**

Trunks had been unfazed, and unscathed, by the feeble attacks from King Cold's soldiers. The masses of energy emitted from their blasters had seemed to move extraordinarily fast to the naked eye, but for a warrior with his perception and power, it was like dodging snowflakes in slow motion. He'd been so fast, that King Cold had arrogantly assumed that he'd been hit and vaporized. In fact, the youthful warrior had sprung up into the air, and was now perched atop one of the pinnacles of rock beside the Arcosian tyrant's ship. So far, nobody had spotted him yet.

The young Saiyan smiled, tightened his tail around his waist, and watched the scene below him unfold predictably. The squadron on the ground stood at attention as their monstrous leader relayed a few brief orders, and then began to split up and take to the air. Each man headed in a different direction, their flight paths like the spokes of wheel, with the ship at the center. Trunks frowned; he couldn't allow any one of them to escape and risk causing damage to a city. In a flash, the teenager disappeared from his position atop the rocky crag, only to reappear a moment later, sliding his newly bloodied sword back into his sheath once again.

_Problem solved,_ he thought, his smile returning.

It felt good to be winning a battle for once. The cocky self-assurance that he was feeling, knowing full well that he outclassed his opponent, was something the young Saiyan had never experienced before. His entire life it seemed he had been fighting a losing battle, ever since he'd inherited it from Gohan after his untimely and tragic demise.

_Today's the day I change that legacy,_ he decided with a stony determination.

Remarkably, the overconfident King Cold still hadn't noticed that Trunks had just taken out the entire squadron he'd just released in less than a minute. The boy raised an eyebrow as a lone soldier scrambled out from the interior of the round, alien ship, a glass of dark red liquid balanced carefully between his fingers. The minion shakily handed his master the wine, and King Cold clasped it delicately in his gigantic hand and immediately took a sip. Trunks had to keep himself from laughing. This guy was just too much; it was hard for the teenage Saiyan to take him seriously. But he knew from experience that underestimating enemies was a mistake that got many of his friends and family members killed in his time, so he resolved to solve the issue with King Cold quickly.

Trunks felt his smile grow, tugging at the corners of his mouth.

_Guess I'll go Super,_ he thought.

Trunks felt his Saiyan blood rushing through his veins, tapping into a massive pool of power that slumbered deep within him. The pebbles near his boots began to dance wildly as the rock under his feet trembled and groaned with the sudden flare of power. The teenager clenched his jaw as he felt his energy rising, his eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes morphed from a clear blue to a ghostly greenish-blue tint. He felt the tips of his hair begin to float upward, become rigid, and begin to emit an eerie golden light. Finally, a massive scream tore itself from Trunks's throat, and he felt the powerful release occur inside him, flooding his muscles with an immense energy that seemed to wash over him like waves breaking on a shore. His aura exploded all around him, causing the pillar of rock to shudder violently before it completely disintegrated underneath his feet. The young Saiyan's energy kept him aloft, and the mass of dust, rocks, and boulders swirled in a massive cyclone around him.

Trunks knew by now, King Cold would have undoubtedly noted his presence, but in his transformed state, the powerful Arcosian king was no challenge for the young warrior. He ceased his scream, but the sound of his shouts echoed off the remaining crags and peaks in the valley for a moment or two longer. The whirlwind of debris flaring around him suddenly halted as he finally achieved his ultimate form, and the teenager floated down from the haze of dust towards his enemy.

* * *

**KRILLIN**

For all of Earth's defenders, the sudden appearance of a second colossal energy signature was a like a cold slap to the face.

Panic had set in each of their expressions; their eyes were bulging, their teeth were gritting together, and their fists were tightly clenched in their distress. Bulma was collapsed to her knees on the ground, hugging Puar to her chest tightly as they both whimpered. Even Piccolo and Vegeta, the strongest among them, had to stop and try to make sense of the awesome power they were suddenly feeling.

Krillin had been blown away plenty of times by enormous power levels, but this one seemed to exist on an entirely different level—several levels, actually. It seemed almost impossible. However, he was the first among the stunned warriors to speak, although his voice was trembling.

"Are—are you guys feeling this?" he asked shakily.

Tien nodded, the worry clearly written on his face. "Yeah, this power makes the other one feel like nothing!"

Yamcha's fearful eyes were as large as golf balls. "Come on guys, we can still go home if we want to, right?"

"Be strong Yamcha," Tien replied, shooting his friend a sympathetic glance. "We're all scared."

"Speak for yourself, you weaklings!" Vegeta shouted, earning himself a few disdainful looks from the humans. "A true warrior doesn't ever show fear!"

"People, think about this!" Krillin interjected, hoping to prevent a fight among his comrades. "It sounds weird, but what if this is Goku?"

The Saiyan prince whirled around to face him, and Krillin cringed a little under his heated gaze.

"That's a ridiculous notion!" Vegeta spat out. "Kakarot was never this powerful!"

"You've said it yourself," Krillin countered, glaring at the Saiyan with determination. "Saiyans grow stronger after every battle. If that's true, by your own logic, this _could_ be Goku's power we're feeling!"

"Impossible," the prince muttered, but he said nothing more.

Waves of excitement seemed to ripple across the remaining members of their party. They each were unsure, however, and their new hope seemed to mingle conflictingly with a lingering fear of the unknown. There was another sudden spike in the newcomer's energy level, sending more waves of awe through the group.

Gohan stepped forward, his expression desperate. "It has to be my dad! There's no other answer that makes sense!"

"There's only one way to find out for sure," Krillin said with a shrug, and he sprung up into the air, his aura bursting forth and granting him the power of flight.

"Krillin!" Yamcha shouted in alarm. "What are you doing? We agreed to hide our power levels so we wouldn't be spotted!"

"It seems the battle has started without us, guys," said the short warrior, "and just in case it is Goku, I'm not going to miss it."

While his other friends glanced at each other questioningly, Vegeta suddenly sprung into the air as well, a twisted smile widening on his face. Everyone blinked up at him as he cocked his head to one side and floated in midair.

"I still don't believe this is Kakarot," he explained. "But I'm not going to crawl around the rocks and crevices like common insect any longer! I'm going to find out who this really is."

The Saiyan's energy burst into a whirlwind around him, and he shot into the air towards the location of the new, massively powerful energy signature. Krillin fell into line immediately after, and gradually all of the others followed suit, releasing their hold on their energies and floating into the air towards the spectacle.

Krillin only hoped he hadn't just convinced his friends to fly straight to their deaths.

* * *

**TRUNKS**

To say the least, King Cold looked shocked to see the teenage Saiyan emerge from the cloud of dust swirling through the air after the explosion. In fact, he looked like he'd seen a ghost. Trunks smiled at the thought, and watched as the tyrant became so shaken that he dropped his glass of precious wine. The glass shattered against the stone and leaked into the earth, looking very much like spilled blood.

"Sorry for the disappearance earlier. I had to go 'change,'" Trunks sneered. "I take it you've never seen a Super Saiyan before."

"Super Saiyan?" King Cold's stunned expression melted away suddenly. To Trunks's surprise, the colossal alien laughed, seemingly unconcerned. "That's a ridiculous myth!"

"I'm afraid it's not," Trunks replied with a grin of his own. "How do you think Goku beat Frieza? He transformed into a Super Saiyan and easily annihilated him. Or didn't you know that?"

The lingering amusement on King Cold's face morphed quickly into one of pure rage. The Acrosian leaned forward menacingly, as his few remaining soldiers once again trained their blasters on the young Saiyan.

"How—how dare you insult my son—you worm! You insect!" the tyrant's energy began to wash off his armored body in waves of electricity. "I'll rip you to pieces with my bare hands!"

Trunks's smirk didn't waver. With a movement faster than even an experienced warrior could see, Trunks reached back over his head, grasped the hilt of his sword, and whipped it out of its sheath with impossible speed and grace. He aimed the razor-sharp tip of the blade directly at the Arcosian tyrant, a fire burning behind his blue-green eyes.

"Correction: You'll be the one in pieces," he assured.

King Cold's expression darted between bafflement and intense rage. "Attack him!" he screamed at his few remaining soldiers, who quickly emptied their blasters at point blank range.

The bright, sizzling bursts of energy whizzed towards Trunks, but they harmlessly bounced off his Super Saiyan aura. He didn't even have to move a muscle to deflect them. Trunks watched with interest as the soldiers under King Cold's command gawked in disbelief at him and began to back away towards the supposed safety of their ship. One of them, finally overtaken by his fear, threw his blaster to the ground, turned his back on Trunks and his master, and began to madly scramble towards the opening in the ship's hull.

In an instant, Trunks was there to meet him. In another, the man's head was rolling on the ground, sliced cleanly off by the young warrior's flashing blade. Finally, his limp body fell with a sickening thud, spilling blood to quench the dry earth. The young Saiyan turned his attentions to disposing of King Cold's remaining lackeys. His sword moved with a fluid, deadly grace as he swung it through the air, and it bit deeply into flesh and bone. Trunks made quick work of them. They were most likely soldier-slaves, with the way they cowered under their king's gaze, and he didn't see the point in making them suffer. It was only seconds later that the last head hit the dirt with a thump, rolling down a slight incline right to King Cold's feet. The stunned Arcosian glanced down at the dismembered head, then back up again at the Super Saiyan in front of him. Trunks rested the stained blade of his weapon against his right shoulder, continued to smile, and began to approach the massive tyrant.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked, swaggering confidently while his enemy staggered back. "Or do you need more proof that Super Saiyans exist? Because I could do this all day."

King Cold's mouth suddenly pressed into a tight, thin line. He visibly sucked in a massive breath, and Trunks saw the fear drain from him. There was a confident glint in his eyes, and it made the young warrior relent his approach.

_What's he got in his head?_ Trunks wondered, readying his sword in front of him once more.

The teenage Saiyan had been cocky and confident for good reason. He knew that King Cold had no chance to beat him in combat, and he was pretty certain that the Arcosian knew that by now as well. His energy levels were simply too low to pose a threat to him. So why then, did the monstrous alien suddenly appear so calm?

"I must say, I'm impressed," King Cold began, an evil smirk beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. Trunks frowned and gripped the hilt of his sword a little tighter as the tyrant continued.

"Super Saiyan or not, to encounter a fighter of your caliber is a rare occurrence," the towering Arcosian explained. "I can appreciate a great talent when I see it, and that's why I'm going to present you with an opportunity."

Trunks continued to grimace, untrusting and cautious. "Oh, really? And what's that?"

The massive Arcosian reached out an upturned palm, offering it towards the skeptical warrior. "Join me. I may have lost my son to this 'Goku' you speak of, but your talents would make you a fine replacement as an overseer to my galactic empire."

Trunks's eyes widened slightly, but he was careful not to reveal too much emotion in the face of his enemy. This was certainly not something he'd expected. As such, he didn't know whether to baffled, flattered, amused, or disgusted by the Arcosian's offer. King Cold would so readily toss aside his son's memory to have him come aboard? It was absurd.

"Not a chance," the young Saiyan replied.

"Now don't be too hasty," the Arcosian pressed, as if this were the reaction he'd been expecting. "This and every other world would be but the merest of baubles in your collection—playthings for your amusement, subject to your every whim. Everything you could ever desire—wine, women, and entire worlds—would be at your fingertips."

Trunks stared at King Cold, silent and disbelieving of the words that poured from the alien tyrant's mouth. This had to be a ploy of some kind—a trick to get him to let down his guard so the Arcosian could strike. He didn't really expect Trunks to suddenly turn completely against his value system and join the family business, did he?

"Like I said before," he said sternly. "No way."

The sickening smirk on the Arcosian's face widened, and he clenched his fists and lowered his body into a crouch. Trunks felt his eyebrows knit together as the tyrannical monarch spit out a few more choice words at him.

"I am truly sorry to hear that," he hissed, and for the first time, the teenager noticed the sheen of sweat forming on the alien's forehead. It was accompanied by a sudden, massive spike in King Cold's power level.

_What…what is he doing?!_

The tyrant's eyes bulged wildly, and he flashed the Saiyan another wicked smile before opening his mouth to scream. Trunks took a step back, unsure of what was unfolding right before his eyes. There was a cracking sound, and suddenly two gigantic, white spikes shot out from the Arcosian's armored back. In that same instant, the alien's white and purple domed head bulged outward, elongating grotesquely and growing a few more spikes as well. There was another huge increase of energy emitted from the Arcosian's body; it formed a pulsing, blood-red aura that whipped to and fro as the wind curled around the two warriors.

_He's transforming! _the Saiyan warrior suddenly realized.

Trunks's teeth clenched tightly, and he braced himself for what surely would be an attack. Even as King Cold's form swelled and bulged to accommodate a new shape, and even as the tyrant's power level grew stronger and stronger, the Saiyan held onto one fact: He knew that Goku had been able to defeat this vile creature. Granted, it had been at a horrible cost, but that was why Trunks was here in the first place: To prevent such an event from occurring. However, all that had changed when King Cold had shown up and Goku hadn't appeared to meet him. What Trunks did know was that at the very least, he was just as strong—or perhaps stronger—than Goku had been in Super Saiyan form. The increase in energy that seeped through the Arcosian's skin was massive by anyone's standards, but the alien would have to close the gap a little more quickly if he was to stand any chance against the teenager. This unexpected turn of events would still have the same ending, Trunks resolved silently. But he couldn't afford to take foolish chances or to flaunt his confidence any longer. Not with this evil tyrant.

King Cold's transformation seemed complete. What stood before the young Saiyan now was a grotesque and twisted figure with flared armor, giant spikes jutting from its body, and a massive, disproportionate head whose mouth curled up into what vaguely resembled a sneer.

"Surprised?" the Arcosian jeered. "Didn't know that my kind can transform too, did you boy?"

The monster laughed maliciously; it was a deep, throaty sound that made Trunks's stomach flop. He gripped his sword with sweaty palms, his muscles growing tense and flooding with adrenaline.

"Well, now that you're finished, let's get this over with," the Saiyan said through his clenched teeth, his fingers tightening around his weapon, turning the flesh of his knuckles white.

King Cold's distorted features curled and creased into yet another evil, chilling smile.

"Who said I was finished?" he hissed, before he broke into more maniacal laughter.

Trunks felt the hair on the back of his neck prick up again at the sound of the Arcosian's sadistic howling, and his eyes grew wide despite his best attempts to mask his shock.

_There are beings that can transform more than one time? _he thought, a sudden fear creeping up inside of him. _This isn't good. I have to end this! _

There was another terrible roar from the alien tyrant, and before Trunks could spring into action and finally kill the monster, he suddenly phased out of sight. The Saiyan warrior gasped and glanced wildly around him, bracing for an attack, but then the Arcosian's massive power level flickered back to life high above him. It was steadily rising, and when Trunks glanced up towards his enemy, what he saw made his stomach turn a second time.

Every seam in the alien's armored body was glowing with an unholy, reddish hue. Even the pupils of his eyes were flashing, and while the tyrant continued to bellow, the sound echoed downward towards the stunned Saiyan warrior. Aghast, Trunks lowered his sword and rocketed up to meet the alien as he hovered high in the upper atmosphere. For every meter the boy flew higher, he felt his enemy's energy do the same. King Cold's scream grew even louder; it flared across the expansive horizon and bounced around between the crags and crevices below them. Suddenly, the armor that encased his entire body began to crack, jagged lines began to snake across his skin, and the red light that seeped through reminded Trunks of a torrential flow of lava that was on the verge of a massive explosion.

To his immense shock and horror, that was exactly what happened next.

* * *

**GOHAN**

Minutes after the group had decided to forgo caution and had flown the rest of the distance to the clearing with the battled was taking place, it had been made abruptly clear that the person facing off against King Cold was not Gohan's father.

What was clearly evident was that this new stranger—whoever it was—was a Super Saiyan.

The half-Saiyan boy had witnessed his father's miraculous transformation on Namek, so he understood what the new form looked and felt like. Stunned, he and his companions had paused in their pursuit to blink at the two tiny figures in the distance. Gohan recognized the golden-tinted aura, the yellow, upright hairstyle, and the incredible power level as that which could only belong to a person who had achieved the legendary state.

_Another Super Saiyan, _he thought, almost excitedly. _But who is it?_

The young boy hadn't had the time to entertain the thought for very long, because a moment later, the power level of the Arcosian king had spiked rapidly several times, drawing out a chorus of disbelieving gasps from the warriors around him. Again, Gohan recognized this as something he'd witnessed on Namek.

Frieza's father was transforming.

In another blink of an eye, the two figures disappeared from their place on the ground and reappeared hovering in the sky hundreds of meters away. Thankfully, neither one of the immensely powerful forces seemed to notice that they had an audience. Gohan held his breath as he felt King Cold's power hit a climactic, almost impossible peak, and then he heard the explosion.

The shockwave careened across the landscape, kicking up a massive storm of dust that invaded the boy's nostrils and mouth. He coughed and covered his head with his hands, hearing his friends doing the same. Bulma's shrill scream penetrated the cloud that engulfed them.

"What is going on?!" he heard Tien shout from somewhere behind him.

Piccolo's voice, which rang out a short distance to Gohan's right, answered him. "King Cold is transforming! He's revealing his full power, just like Frieza did on Namek!"

"You're wrong, Namek!" Vegeta growled from somewhere nearby, his tone betraying the slightest trace of panic. "There's no way that blasted Arcosian could achieve this level of power, even with a transformation! It has to be a trick!"

"Somebody get me out of here!" shrieked Bulma from somewhere further off. "I want to go home!"

Gohan gritted his teeth as the winded died down and the blinding dust dissipated; however, the chilling sense of dread still consumed him. Vegeta was wrong—King Cold's energy had swelled to immense proportions, and he undoubtedly had surpassed the tremendously terrible power of Frieza had possessed. Earth's future seemed increasingly abysmal.

_I wish my dad was here, _he thought with increasing trepidation.

The half-Saiyan boy glanced once towards his companions, but each of them was gawking at the unfolding spectacle in the distance, their eyes bulging in shock and their mouths agape. Even Piccolo looked utterly blow away. Gohan turned back towards the two floating, faraway figures. He stared open-mouthed, trying not to blink for fear that he would miss a crucial instant of the clash of superpowers, and then he focused on the fiery point of yellow light that was the mysterious Super Saiyan. Whoever this stranger was, he was their only hope. Only his power rivaled that of the Arcosian's now.

In the face of such terrible force, there was nothing any of the warriors could do but to wait—either for a miracle and for the Earth to be saved, or for King Cold to overpower his opponent and then usher in the total destruction of the planet.

* * *

**Additional Notes:**_ Now, before people start pelting me with rotten fruit and writing reviews saying about how my portrayal of King Cold's power level is inaccurate, let me explain that I did do my research about that very topic. Firstly, from what I found after perusing multiple sources, I have concluded that conjecture (both that of official materials and of fans) about his power level is extremely conflicted. Therefore, I see no reason why he could not have been more powerful than his son. After all, he was still a "king" at this point and time while Frieza was merely a "lord", so if their hierarchy reflects their power levels…you get my drift. _

_Secondly, I thought it was a real shame to not see Frieza's fearsome father transform in the original series. I wish he'd lasted longer than he did, because he was interesting and oddly funny to me. It seemed that he was used not for his unique character, but to make an already dangerous situation seem hopeless for the Z-fighters, and to establish the strength of the then-mysterious Trunks. I've gushed a little bit over the past few chapters about how much I've enjoyed writing him, so if you can't accept any of my other reasons for giving him an extra power boost so he can live and fight longer, cite my motivation as purely selfish. _

_Thirdly, one of the reoccurring motifs in my story is transformation in its various forms. Goku's already going through his, but I'm going to force many of the other characters to go through transformative phases—some physical, some emotional, some both—throughout this story as well. This includes King Cold, even if it is just to satisfy my own desires. _

_Don't forget to review! I'm still not above begging for them… ; )_


	6. The Killing Cold

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's Note: **So this is just the beginning of the very first original fight scene I've ever written for Dragon Ball Z fanfiction. I've decided that fight scenes are not my forte-emotive, angsty, inner monologues and romantic, fluffy drivel tend to be my specialty. But I hope that all of my readers find the first parts of the conflict between Trunks and King Cold satisfying and enjoyable to read. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to improve and I will do my very best to make the next chapter even better.

On a more fun note, there is a surprise at the end of this chapter, as well as some questions I've been asked and their answers. The chapter title is your hint to the former. : )

**_Thank you for 40 reviews! Please keep 'em coming-my muse is hungry! Thanks again!_**

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX: THE KILLING COLD**

* * *

**TRUNKS**

The blinding white light came first, more brilliant than the brightest sunburst; it forced Trunks to turn away to avoid burning his retinas. Then the massive shock wave struck him, hurling him a few meters through the air, despite his attempts to shield his body with his own energy. Finally, a choking cloud of dust engulfed him as the landscape beneath the two combatants was utterly pulverized by the intense explosion. His heart racing and his eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to gain back his vision, the young Saiyan reached out with his senses in an attempt to feel out where his enemy had gone.

Before he even saw the evil alien monarch, the teenager felt the extent of his power. It made his first two forms feel like nothing. Trunks felt his heartbeat quicken, and yet another surge of adrenaline burst through his veins. King Cold's power level was now truly massive, and to the teenager's horror, it was ever increasing, reaching astronomical heights.

_This is impossible…his power is equal to mine! _

Trunks held out the glinting, bloodstained blade of his weapon in the direction of the enormous power source. He realized too late that he had severely underestimated the nature of his enemy, and that was a huge mistake. It was clear that the Arcosian already had enough tricks up his sleeve, and it had been Trunks's overconfidence that had triggered this sudden change in events. He'd allowed King Cold to close the gap of power between them, instead of striking him down before he'd even known what hit him. The teenager cursed himself under his breath. He'd acted amateurish—stupid even—and now he was facing an enemy that whose strength rivaled a Super Saiyan's.

An evil snicker suddenly penetrated the veil of dust in front of him, echoing ominously in the air, and the power level associated with it grew even more massive. Trunks felt the icy claws of fear plunge into his gut, twisting his stomach into knots as he felt the Arcosian's energy spike higher and higher still.

_This is impossible, _he thought frantically. _His power is surpassing mine! _

It was much worse than that, Trunks realized. King Cold's power level not only surpassed his own Super Saiyan strength, but it made it seem utterly insignificant in comparison.

"You should feel honored," said the Arcosian's voice rang through the whirling dust cloud. "I've never had to resort to using either of my last two forms in battle."

An unusually powerful gust of wind suddenly carried away what remained of the particles of dust and debris that floated in the air, and Trunks suddenly laid his eyes on King Cold's so-called final form. The monster with massive spikes and horrifying, twisted features had utterly disappeared. In its place hovered a sleek, smooth-skinned creature with a recognizable, humanoid face, a wicked grin, and a very evident bloodlust.

"Stunned into silence, then?" chuckled King Cold again, obviously pleased to see the Saiyan's baffled expression. "No last words?"

Trunks gritted his teeth as the tyrant used swift, calculating words to deliver a few deep cuts to the boy's pride. The monster's power level had topped out, but it was at an astronomical level that even he in his brightest moments couldn't even hope to achieve. Had the androids in his time had energy signatures, Trunks would have guessed that King Cold's strength was as powerful as the two of them combined. The teenager's heart leapt about wildly in his chest as he was met with the revelations that he might not win this fight after all.

Trunks had risked the perilous journey through time and space in order to try to change history for the better. Now, as the Arcosian took gleeful pleasure in his obvious horror, Trunks realized one last painful fact: He'd intervened to try to save the future, but because of his foolish actions, he'd guaranteed its certain end.

With the Saiyan boy frozen with shock, the alien king took advantage of the silence and continued in his speech; his evil smirk permanently affixed to his face.

"You know, I doubted my son's common sense when he massacred your entire race on a whim," he hissed maliciously. "But now I'm starting to understand that he had the right idea about you Saiyans. The only rightful place for creatures such as you is in the ground!"

With that, the monarch lifted a hand above his head, his index finger pointed towards the sky.

"I think it's time I destroyed the precious planet you're protecting," King Cold announced, a crazed grin cracking his face in half. "If my prey isn't here, then it appears there is no reason for me to stay after all. Besides, rumor has it that the remaining Namekians have relocated on a different planet, so I'll just make that my next stop and wish back Frieza with _their_ dragon balls."

"You're bluffing!" shouted Trunks, hoping upon hope that what he said was true. "If you destroy the planet, you'll destroy yourself too!"

"Not so," the Arcosian sneered. "My species can survive without any oxygen at all. But that's not true of Saiyans. You'll perish along with this pathetic planet."

A glimmering orb of intensely concentrated energy suddenly flickered to life about the Arcosian's outstretched finger, swelling rapidly until it was the size of a small moon. Trunks watched, horrified, his body frozen in place. The Saiyan warrior gasped in terror as the unstable, massive ball began to emit huge bursts of lightning. The brilliant, jagged beams of light crackled around the two warriors and made the molecules in the air around them buzz with an incredible heat.

_He…he's going to do it…this isn't a trick!_

Above him, the chilling, gleeful laughter of the Arcosian tyrant rang out again, and Trunks could only watch aghast as King Cold stretched out his arms, ushering a powerful wave of energy that sent the massive orb spiraling towards the ground.

* * *

**GOKU**

He'd been too late.

Goku's face twisted into a grimace full of guilt and shame and he closed his eyes as he felt the massive power surges coming from his home Planet. He could feel every single spike in energy, including the one he'd earlier suspected was Frieza. But now the Saiyan warrior knew the he had to be wrong.

Frieza had never been this powerful.

And to make matters worse, there was not only one colossal power on Earth, but two. The second had flickered to life unexpectedly and now the first combatant's power—which had been unbelievable before—had begun to grow to truly terrible proportions. Soon, Goku knew the two mysterious superpowers would clash in a bid for supremacy and what Goku suspected was the last fireworks show on Earth. Despite his new Instant Transmission technique, which would make it easy for him to travel from the tiny confines of his space pod to the planet surface, he was too paralyzed by his fear to even attempt it.

The Saiyan warrior wasn't afraid of the creatures whose intensely powerful energies were readying themselves for the battle, of course. A year ago, he would have thrown himself into the fight without a second thought about the lofty power levels of his opponents. But ever since his Super Saiyan transformation and the emergence of the cruel beast from within his subconscious, the very idea of fighting repulsed him. He was terrified that he'd be forced to transform again, and that the same darkness would overtake him.

Now, he was forced to watch as the fate of the Earth hung loosely in the air, without him there to catch it if it fell.

The first warrior's energy signature finally ceased to grow, but it had plateaued at the level so great that it seemed inconceivable that such a power could exist. At the same moment he realized this, Goku was suddenly aware of a powerful concentration of energy being created on the faraway battlefield. His breath hitched in his lungs as he felt a massive orb of energy gather at the behest of the more powerful first combatant, growing exponentially stronger and more destructive with every second. At that moment, Goku was certain the he would witness his home world's destruction, and the thought was too much for him to bear.

Despite his colossal fears, despite the horrible monster he had hidden inside, the Saiyan warrior couldn't sit here and do nothing. He had to at least attempt to help, even if it meant that death itself was waiting for him on the surface of his home world. Goku's heart began to race as he slowly and unsteadily lifted a hand up towards his forehead. He couldn't believe he was about to do this; to instantly transmit himself into a melee between such unbelievably colossal powers while resolving not to use his Super Saiyan strength was complete suicide. But he couldn't stand idly by while everyone on Earth—including those he loved—was destroyed by the impending blast. He'd rather die than allow it.

Goku pressed his fingers to his forehead. He closed his eyes, concentrated on the two clashing energies, zeroed in on their location on the Earth's surface, and then in an instant…he was gone.

* * *

**KRILLIN**

By now, Krillin was almost certain that he and everyone around him were going to die. The clash of superpowers in the distance was already too much for the planet to handle. The very air seemed to hum with their enormous power, and now that King Cold had released an energy blast that was roughly the size of a small star and sent it rocketing towards the ground, he was sure he only had minutes—maybe even seconds—to live.

The collection of warriors and their companions had dropped from the sky in anticipation of the massive blast, and were spread out on the ground, their bodies pressed flat as the howling wind whipped past them.

In what he thought were his last moments, Krillin's thoughts wandered to the one who was missing among them, and he couldn't help but wonder that if that person were here, if things would have turned out differently.

_Goku, where are you? _he thought. _We need to you!_

No matter how hard he wished, the impish warrior knew that no single desire could make his friend materialize, no matter how many times it had happened before. Goku was not there to be their savior. It really seemed like the end of the world this time.

Struggling to hold back his torrential emotions, Krillin closed his eyes, and braced himself for the end.

And that was when he felt it.

Suddenly, as if conjured from the air itself, a familiar energy signature materialized from nothing. Compared to the superpowers that were dueling in the distance, this power level paled in comparison, but that didn't matter for Krillin. He recognized it as belonging to his lifelong friend, and the others around him could sense it too.

"Hey!" Gohan suddenly shouted over the howling wind. "That's my dad! He's here!"

* * *

**TRUNKS**

With a massive bellow, King Cold swept his outstretched finger and the torrential sphere of energy downward towards the stunned Saiyan. Trunks barely had time to react, even with his Super Saiyan speed. He was forced to throw aside his sword and outstretch both of his arms as the huge mass of light collided with his palms. The force of the blast pressed down on his limbs almost unbearable force, and the teenager's body began to sink rapidly beneath his heavy load and towards the Earth.

Trunks felt as if the joints in his arms were about to buckle, as the shimmering, destructive sphere drove him further downward, but then he felt the tips of his toes make contact with the planet's surface, giving him some traction. He was drawing on stores of energy he couldn't maintain for much longer, and if he failed to deflect this blast, the Earth would be destroyed for sure. He dug his heels into the dirt, ground his teeth together, and pushed back with all of his might.

Suddenly, another presence emerged from behind him, startling the young Saiyan and nearly making him lose his footing as he continued to fight against the force of the Arcosian's massive attack. He couldn't look back to see who—or what it was—but it was an energy signature he'd never felt before. As he continued to struggle against the enormous weight of the destructive sphere, Trunks heard a voice scream the name of an attack he'd not heard or seen performed in years.

"_Kame…"_

_Gohan?_ Trunks thought with disbelief. _No, that can't be; he's only a child in this time!_

"…_hame..."_

Still pinned under the extreme force of King Cold's blast, the teenager glanced to each side, searching for the mystery man who had suddenly appeared. However, he still couldn't see the individual shouting the familiar syllables, nor did he recognize their voice.

"…_HAAAAAAAA!"_

A colossal shudder rippled through the air around Trunks as he felt a river of energy being released somewhere disturbingly close by. Suddenly, a massive beam of pale blue light cut through the air next to him, colliding with the sizzling surface of the King Cold's attack and dramatically diminishing the weight pressing painfully down on Trunks's shoulders. The teenager's eyes widened as he felt the strain lessen on his fatigued joints, and he was filled with an enormous sense of relief, paired with an equal amount of confusion.

_They're…they're helping me! _the young Saiyan realized.

Sure enough, an enormous stream of pulsing blue energy continued to surge directly into the gigantic mass his Arcosian opponent had flung down towards Earth, the sheer force of it stopping the deadly attack in mid-air. The giant globe of energy now hung precariously in the air, balanced above the Earth by the Trunk's straining muscles and the blue stream of energy that originated from his unexpected, anonymous ally. Judging from the direction of the beam, the person was standing behind him and to his right, but the young Saiyan still couldn't see who it was. Despite the unknown identity of the person who had come to his aid, Trunks took advantage of the lessened weight and gained a more favorable foothold, before twin bolts of energy burst from his own palms. His life force streamed forth and struck the massive, glittering orb with a shower of sparks that poured down onto the young Saiyan like rain.

There was another massive shudder as the kinetics of the huge, deadly ball of energy shifted away from the Earth. Slowly, the energy sphere ceased the perilous balancing act and began to rise over the rocky landscape like a second sun. Trunks ignored the painful sting of sweat as it ran into his eyes, gritted his teeth once more, and ushered every last bit of his energy into the palms of his outstretched hands, speeding the lethal attack's ascension away from the Earth and back towards the Arcosian tyrant who'd created it. The mysterious person helping him continued feeding the stream of blue light into the huge orb as well. He heard King Cold's bewildered cries over the sound of the pulsing, buzzing energy in his ears.

"What?!" the alien monarch howled. "Who dares!?"

A fierce roar escaped the young warrior's lips as he pushed forward one more inch before hurling the torrential ball of energy back into the air above him, sending it spiraling back towards the baffled Arcosian.

Finally freed from being pinned between a swirling mass of deadly energy and the rocky ground, the Trunks collapsed to one knee and tried to calm his racing heart. Despite the help he'd received from his unnamed ally, the incredible exertion it had required to deflect the massive, destructive orb had reduced his own stores of energy to an alarmingly low level. Trunks whipped his over his shoulder around to finally steal a glance at the mysterious warrior who had wielded the Kamehameha wave and aided him in deflecting King Cold's deadly blast.

What he saw was both a monumental shock and an enormous relief. He recognized the man's features as those that Gohan, his late mentor and best friend, had inherited. It was just as his mother had described: Boyish features just beginning to show a hint of age, an unruly mass of jet-black hair, and a pair of onyx eyes with a fiery determination burning behind them.

Trunks felt his heart swell with a sudden hope.

_Goku…_

Trunks opened his mouth to shout the other Saiyan warrior's name, but another cry from the Arcosian above him alerted him to the threat that still remained. He whipped his head around again and stared back up towards the massive ball of energy that he and Goku had just bounced back in the evil alien's direction.

The gigantic sphere of energy was careening back towards its creator, and the young Saiyan squinted to watch his enemy's terrified reaction. However, he was met with a disappointing sight. The Arcosian certainly looked less than pleased that the teenager and his aide had reversed his attack and used it against him; however, instead of being instantaneously incinerated as Trunks had hoped, King Cold simply phased out of the path of the massive blast and allowed it to shoot past him. The alien invader watched as his own attack sailed further into the azure sky, and then turned back to the combatants on the ground, baring his teeth in a smug grin. The ball of light escaped through the Earth's atmosphere in an instant, growing smaller and smaller, before exploding light years away. The planet was left completely unharmed.

Unfortunately for the two Saiyan warriors, so was King Cold.

* * *

**GOKU**

Upon materializing on Earth's surface, and in such close proximity to such intense levels of energy, Goku felt his already enormous fears reach an unprecedented level. He'd appeared in the middle of the struggle between two massive superpowers, and just in time to save the Earth from what had seemed like a certain end. On one side of the skirmish was a creature that looked disturbingly identical to Frieza, and on the other was a young man whose existence was both a marvel and a mystery to the Saiyan warrior.

The teenager's yellow hair stood upright, his aura shimmered with a radiant golden light, and his eyes were an unearthly shade of blue-green. As Goku's eyes slid downward, he noticed one more astounding detail: The young man had a very distinctive, furry appendage wrapped around his waist. After a moment of staring dumbfounded at the boy, Goku realized undoubtedly that the young warrior was a Saiyan. Another instant passed, and with it came yet another even more extraordinary revelation.

The mysterious young fighter was a Super Saiyan. _Another_ Super Saiyan.

A flurry of thoughts invaded Goku's mind as he realized what stood in front of him. There was another Super Saiyan in the universe, and through this sudden brush with death, they had been brought together to fight in Earth's defense. But as he stared again at the young man and met his icy blue gaze, Goku saw no trace of the inhuman savagery that he expected. Where was the blinding, all-consuming rage? Where was the bloodlust? The older Saiyan found no sign that the younger warrior struggled with a monumental evil inside of him, but why? He was shocked at the idea of another Super Saiyan, but one that seemed in control of himself was even more inconceivable. However, what was most disturbing was the way the young man blinked back at him with a very clear expression of recognition. The stranger even opened his mouth to speak to the older Saiyan warrior, but a booming voice from above cut off their exchange before it could even begin.

"Silly little Saiyan…you didn't think it would be that easy, did you?" sneered the Arcosian, gaze locked on the younger of the two warriors. The alien's red eyes narrowed and Goku felt his blood freeze in his veins as he felt the cold, calculating glare fall onto him. "And who is this? A friend of yours?"

Goku felt the inside of his mouth suddenly become dry, and he remained mute. Again, his eyes shifted momentarily from the alien in the sky to the anonymous Super Saiyan in front of him. The boy looked over his shoulder at him expectedly, as if waiting for him to do something.

"The strong silent type, I see," the alien invader chuckled, and a familiar sickening smirk appeared on his face. "Whatever is the matter? Aren't you going to show some decorum and introduce yourself?"

The landscape was suddenly plunged into an eerie silence, and the wind disappeared as if sucked away and into a void. The only movement of air Goku was aware of was his own breaths fluctuating in and out of his lungs. Finally, he swallowed and spoke.

"My name is Goku," he said somewhat unsteadily, trying to piece together some semblance of confidence.

The white and purple Arcosian's wicked grin grew wider. "Goku, is it?" he whispered viciously as he spread his hands wide. "Well, I can honestly say that I'm extremely pleased that you've come to join us. To be honest, I needed more of a challenge, and this little pest speaks quite highly of you."

Goku's eyes slide down once more to the young man in front of him, wondering how the young man could have known his name even though he was certain they'd never met. But regardless of how the younger warrior recognized him, Goku decided that the teenager was a friend, and that was all the knowledge he needed at the time. The boy had clearly been fighting the Arcosian in defense of the Earth.

"I guess my reputation precedes me," Goku said slowly. "But I'm more interested in who you are, and the reason why you're here."

The smirk on the alien's face wavered a bit, and he adopted a disdainful, dark tone. "The reason? Why—you are, of course. _You_—the Saiyan that murdered my son."

Goku felt his breath hitch in his throat, and for a brief instant he was transported back in time to the moment that he—while enslaved under the massive influence of the malevolent presence inside him—had extinguished a certain Arcosian's life. He felt his mouth hang open, but no sound came from him. There were no words for the sudden jolt of realization Goku felt when he realized who he was now facing.

"Frieza," he finally breathed, his eyes widening. "You're his—"

"Precisely," the Arcosian cut in, a potent scowl crossing his features. "I am King Cold. I think it's only proper that you know my name before I destroy you."

"Goku!" a sudden voice interrupted Goku's hazy thoughts, snapping him back into reality. The teenage Saiyan was shouting at him with a look of desperation in his eyes. "Don't allow him to manipulate you! Every moment we aren't attacking, he's gathering more power for another strike!"

Goku blinked a few times, glanced once more up at the smirking Arcosian above him, and swallowed again. Yes, the boy had a point. He was wasting time, and Earth didn't have much time left unless this monster was vanquished quickly. Far above, he heard an evil chuckle escape the alien attacker's lips. Clearly, Frieza's father found this situation amusing, and was more than confident in his imminent victory. Again, Goku's eyes slid down to the younger, unknown Super Saiyan in front of him. The young man turned and his expression became even more frantic.

"Transform!" he said urgently, clenching both of his hands in front of him in fists. "If we both go Super Saiyan now we can take him!"

Goku felt his heartbeat begin to race. Not only did this anonymous stranger know his name, but he also knew of his capability to transform into a Super Saiyan! He didn't understand how the young man could know that about him, and still remain completely ignorant to the fact that he became possessed by a dark, destructive force when he was transformed. The sound of his blood pulsing in his ears suddenly became unbearably loud as he felt a familiar anxiety slip into his insides.

It was obvious that the alien floating above was vastly more powerful than both of them put together—unless Goku relented to the younger warrior's pleas and attempted another Super Saiyan transformation. However, the older Saiyan had resolved in his heart long ago that he would never relinquish control of his body and mind to the slumbering monster inside of him ever again. The only thing that he feared more than the end of the world at the hands of Frieza's father was becoming the catalyst for Earth's obliteration himself. And that would certainly happen if the destructive, malevolent presence were to seize control from him again.

"Goku!" the young man shouted, his voice becoming strained with panic.

From above, Goku heard the Arcosian titan sigh impatiently. "I grow tired of this," he snapped unhappily. "It is time to put an end to you Saiyans and the rest of the vermin on this wretched little mud ball. I think I'll start with the ankle-biter first."

"Goku!" the unnamed Saiyan screamed again. "Why aren't you—"

The teenager's cries were suddenly cut off when there was a sudden shift in the air and the energy signature above them. King Cold's evil smirk was the last thing Goku saw before the Arcosian phased out of sight and almost instantly reappeared on the ground, just a few meters away from the frantic young Saiyan, his index finger pointed outward purposefully. Goku opened his mouth to scream a hysterical warning, but his cries were interrupted by a bright flash of light.

Horrified, the older Saiyan could only watch as a sizzling, electric pink beam of energy burst from the Arcosian's fingertip and violently punched a hole through the teenager's chest.

The young man's mouth shot open and his eyes widened at the sudden searing pain. His gaze slowly floated up to meet Goku's horrified stare, and his face twisted into a picture of pain and astonishment. His lips moved in a feeble attempt to speak the other Saiyan's name again, but instead of a voice, a heavy, red glob of blood bubbled out of his throat. The teen's eyes grew wider still, his face paler. He wobbled unsteadily on his feet for a moment, his eyes gliding downward to stare at the smoking hole formed by the alien tyrant's death beam, until he finally collapsed with an unceremonious thud. His golden-yellow aura evaporated as he made contact with the dirt…and then he was still.

Time stood still for a fleeting, utterly terrifying moment. Even the wind died down, as if Earth was holding back its breath, waiting for one of the two remaining combatants to move. Goku was frozen; the shock and awe of seeing yet another ally cruelly struck down by a murderous alien rooted him to the spot and turned his insides to ice.

Another laugh escaped the Arcosian's lips, shattering the silence; the gleefully evil echo like poison to the remaining Saiyan's ears. Goku felt as though the Earth was slipping out from under him as his gaze settled one last time on King Cold. The alien monster's wicked smirk widened as he lowered his hand and savored in his enemy's obvious shock and distress.

"One Saiyan down," the Arcosian sneered cruelly, "and one to go."

* * *

**Author Q and A (since there were quite a few questions asked about the last chapter):**

**Why do you have so many cliffhangers? **

Mostly because ending chapters with cliffhangers has been my signature writing style for most of the fics I've written over the last half-decade, and it just feels natural to me. Also, I'm evil.

**Where's Bulma and how did she keep up with all the guys during all of this?**

Good question. Bulma's right were I left her-clinging desperately to Yamcha-for now, anyway. I enjoy writing Bulma, but at this point in the story to pay any sort of attention to her would require multiple instances of crying, shrill screaming, and a repetitive use of the phrase "I'm too young and pretty to die!", which would detract from the drama unfolding on the battlefield.

**Why isn't Trunks suffering the negative effects of turning into a Super Saiyan the same way Goku is?**

Well, there is a logical reason for that, which will be explained in full later on in the story-but I can't divulge those details yet. However, I can tell you Goku's unique reaction to his transformation is related to an episode of trauma he suffered long ago.

**Are you basing King Cold's transformation off of Cooler's transformation?**

Yes and no. I assume that King Cold is simply following the Arcosian's natural sequence of transformations, but I take into the fact that his base form when he appears in the original series appears to be the same as Frieza's form after having already transformed once. So Cold only has two transformations to go before he reaches what we would recognize as Frieza's final form, or the Arcosian 4th form. That's what he's using currently, if my descriptions were not clear enough. Also, a reminder that it is my personal belief that he was just as powerful as Mecha-Frieza while in his 2nd form, and therefore his own 4th form power level would be astronomical and much higher than a single Super Saiyan's energy output.

**And lastly, a question that has not yet been asked but one that I'm anticipating being confronted with after posting this chapter: Why'd you do that to Trunks?! How could you?!**

As previously stated, I am evil. And if you think that was mean, wait until I post the next chapter. *evil grin*

_**Thank you for your readership; it is appreciated on an immeasurable level.**_


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